Poems

Dear Father-Mother, Love, The tranquil daylight dies; Home to her nest the gentle dove On eager pinions flies; And slow-limbed cattle come Down from the pasture late, To gaze in patient wonder by An old familiar gate. Now, splashed with starlight's gold, Contented from their play, The young lambs hasten to the fold To wait another day.

Thy closet door must now be closed If thou wouldst pray aright— If thou wouldst offer sacrifice Well pleasing in God's sight. Let not false, human yearnings dare Prompt thee to pray amiss; Ye ask in vain, O selfish one— Ye know not joy nor bliss! With true desire for holiness.

I cannot see as clearly as I should, There seems to be a mist obscures my sight; And yet I know, when Truth is understood, The mist will disappear before its light. I cannot always glimpse the road ahead, Yet I can listen for the Father's voice.

What mean the speeding seasons? What is time That claims to be too late or else too soon? Remember Jesus, when a boy of twelve, Found in the Father's business his delight; And later, how he loved the little ones And recommended their receptive thought. Consider Moses in his later days— Upon him fell no burden of the years: His eye undimmed, his powers unimpaired, He journeyed on, when earth's great tasks were done.

In Galilee so long ago, When Jesus faced the throng, He healed the sick and raised the dead, And changed their grief to song. And when he trod in ways apart, To lift his thought in prayer, The eager, searching multitude Sought him for healing there.

I may not always understand Love's gentle leading; When human needs and human strife have darkened thought, I may not always hear my Father softly pleading, Son, I am leading thee, from paths with danger fraught. Though I may tarry through dark hours of idle dreaming, His tender love is guarding, and He will provide A sure release from strife and discord's woeful seeming, If I but listen for His voice— in Love confide.

Alone with God I walked last night beneath a starlit sky and full-orbed moon. 'Twas in a hilltop garden where I took my way to watch and pray.

There is a stillness comes at evening time, A hush, as if the earth reluctantly, Regretfully, allowed the sun to go, And night to come with its dark pageantry. But there is happiness at morning time— A very gush of joy comes with the dawn; Earth cries aloud its gladness, while birds sing And flowers chant their praise that night is gone.

He who in bonds of finite sense, Submerged in mire of false belief, Encompassed by both doubt and fear, Maligned, betrayed, and bowed by grief, Turns to the Lord—who sees the heart And matter things beholdeth not, But sees man in His image pure, Not doomed to earth or earthly lot— Will reap reward in things of worth, Peace passing understanding sweet, Pure joy that earth takes not away, Clear faith that ne'er can know defeat. In this exalted state of thought, Above the dream that stultifies, He sees the man the Master saw, Free from the maze of mortal lies.

A little silver sea still shines In sunny Galilee, Upon its waves the sunbeams dance Forever joyously. It mirrors skies of brightest blue, And when the sun dips low, The hues of blossoms—rose and gold— Upon its surface glow.