Poems

O "infinite Unseen," To Thee, all-knowing Mind, We lift our thought in prayerful praise. And our true being find.

I The nets were limp and idle; they had caught But grass and drifting seaweed; yet through all The weary night, of him the fishers thought, Uncomprehending, yearning for his call— When lo, at morn there came across the sea A sound to thrill their hearts, and turn defeat To victory: he asked them lovingly And gently, "Children, have ye any meat?" And in that wondrous hush of dawning light Upon their waking senses softly fell The love-inspired command, "Cast on the right And ye shall find," and, knowing all was well, They dipped their nets again, for, doubtings past, They tarried not, they questioned not, but cast. II What wonder that the take should so abound! Heart-full with gladness, hastening to obey, Unquestioning, how could these men be found But with their nets full? For faith-filled, could they Be empty now? Their cup of joy o'erran, And night, and toil, and failure were forgot.

" O Israel , the Lord our God is one. " Who listens, hears this call in consciousness As did the prophets of the long ago— Nor can it be denied, once it is heard.

Fear not, O Christian soldier, fighting for the rights of man; No evil shall befall thee in this war 'gainst tyrant's clan. Thy refuge is the shelter of the all-embracing love Of Him whose presence fills the earth and firmament above.

"The fleeting freshness of youth, however, is not the evergreen of Soul. "—Miscellaneous Writings by Mary Baker Eddy, Preface, page ix.

All space is filled with God today, And error cannot enter in, If we hold thought to Truth and pray. All space is filled with God today.

Dear Lord, when through the storm and strife My upward-tending thought shall soar, To know Thy peace, to dwell on Life, Will keep me safe forevermore. Dear Lord, amid the surging throng Who blindly strive for place and power, To walk with holy Love along The way will comfort me each hour.

I am not bitter. I do not look With tear-filled eyes Upon the world today.

How often, as a child, when fears would steal My joy, or fretfulness my peace, I'd feel My mother's gentle hand upon my head, Stilling the fretfulness, the childish dread. Temper's swift word, or disappointment's tear, Reminding me of love that knew no fear.

This torch I bear, God help me hold it high, That it may shed its light On every passer-by; That it may reach the lame, The deaf, the dumb, the blind, And draw the aged and youth— This flaming torch of Truth. This torch I bear, God help me keep it bright, Untarnished from the world, Undimmed by error's night; Grant that its beams may free The bonds of all mankind, The cultured or uncouth— This flaming torch of Truth.