Poems

If I today a ray of light have shed, From my small lamp have thrown some beams ahead; If hope I've given to some despairing one, Taught him to trust before the set of sun; If Truth I've shown to one whose eyes were blind, If to the poor and weak I have been kind, If I have loved my neighbor as I should, For evil given sent him naught but good; If I have watched each moment at my heart, And bade all unkind, sin-filled thought depart; If I've returned a smile for every frown, Knowing that evil could not cast me down,— Then I indeed can lay me down to sleep , Secure that Love divine the watch will keep.

In the name of our God who is perfect,      We proclaim that perfection is ours; That who walks in the light of His presence      Has absolute powers; That the sin which entangles our footsteps,      The disease that bewilders the sight, Were not deeds of the days of creation,      But mists of the night. By the works that we do shall men judge us,      By the lives that we live may they see That the Science of Christ is within us,      The truth makes us free.

What crisis in earth's life impelled The deed divine? What purpose high Broke through the unseen boundary, When sage and shepherd, awed, beheld From out the purpling breast of night The star rise, angel-heralded— The star that stands for light? High in the east, full-orbed it rose, And onward in its radiant course Resistless moved—a quickening force. And they who sank beneath earth's woes, Saw in that steadfast sign above, The lamp of God, new lighted— The star that stands for Love.

El-í-she-ba , God's worshiper, Whose eyes are starlit wells Filled from the depths with constancy,— Blue violets of the dells,— With strength of tone and faithfulness Their look a sweetness tells. Thou standest at the gates of night Where pass the toilers by; Some have wrought well, and happy go; Some halt in step, and sigh; Some trail in dust a broken wing— A multitude goes by.

O may I bring a willing heart To every simple task; O may I pluck the thought of self From every boon I ask. May I preserve a simple faith Amid life's surge and stress, Nor entertain a single sense That shall not bless.

A prophet voice cried in the long past ages: "O comfort ye my people, saith your God;" And they who let the dead past seal his pages, Of comfort nigh at hand themselves defraud. God's people wander still in barren places, And hunger for the good that's undenied; They heavenward turn their sad and weary faces, And pray for what already is supplied.

To those awakening from the dream of earth, To us who have unbound the dungeon chain That held us in our heritage of pain, The days are big with blessings, at whose birth Our hearts with gratitude unfeigned well forth. Dark earthly dream! thy sunset hour is come, The powers of heaven are shaken, and the fruit Of wisdom falls full-ripe, whose vain pursuit Thy sons have urged o'er earth and ocean's foam, And found it not— and now it leads us home.

Wild roses of music well up in my soul That the toiling thoughts stand still to hear; Reverberant, rich as the organ's roll, Their theme is the dawn of a dominant cheer. Swift rhythms of rapture my musings control, Untangling all discords, while, jubilant, clear, Wild roses of music well up in my soul That the toiling thoughts stand still to hear.

I set my life-door open wide, Inviting all to come inside; But they who hurried past my door, Left me more lonely than before! I watched them to my neighbor go— Some thoughtfully, some fast, some slow; Some glanced at me with smiling eye, But came not in—I wondered why. And watching them, I saw, although They oft looked sad and sick, walked slow And haltingly, as they went in.

Suffer them to come, the Master said, The kingdom is of such; and laid his hand With lingering tenderness upon the head Of one, the nearest of the little band. Wide-eyed, they clustered there about his knees, Held by the love that trembled in that voice Whose accents vanquished sin, unloosed disease, And called a world to hearken and rejoice.