Poems

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law, But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. —1 Corinthians, 15:55-57.

From the land of shadows and darkened dreams, Where all that real is, unreal seems; Where human strength but weakness proves; Where human love but little moves; Where selfish ends are ever sought, And mighty Truth appears as nought; A white star leadeth me, To that Haven where hath eternal lease Sweet Purity and gentle Peace; Where in God's might man finds his strength; Where in God's love man finds at length His rest, his peace, himself ensoul'd; His heart enriched by grace untold, A white star guideth me. W.

O restless spirit! wherefore strain Beyond thy sphere? Heaven and hell, with their joy and pain, Are now and here. Back to thyself is measured well All thou hast given; Thy neighbor's wrong is thy present hell, His bliss, thy heaven.

Pilgrim on earth give heed unto these words: "In strict obedience to th' Eternal Truth Man—in the image and the likeness made Of his Creator—doth within himself Reflect the attributes of God, and thus From sin and sickness claims immunity. Speed, Pilgrim, fearlessly along the path Of life, each seeming presence of a claim Of Evil spurn.

Beside Bethesda's quickening pool he lay, A wreck of sin, Not knowing how to demonstrate the way To enter in. "Wilt thou be whole?" said Christ unto him then.

If you are tempted to reveal A tale some one to you has told About another, make it pass Before you speak, three gates of gold. Three narrow gates—first, "Is it true?" Then, "Is it needful?" In your mind Give truthful answer, and the next Is last and narrowest, "Is it kind?" And if to reach your lips at last It passes through these gateways three, Then you may tell, nor fear What the result of speech may be.

If the treasures of ocean were laid at my feet, And its depths were all robbed of its coral and pearl, And the diamonds were brought from the mountains' retreat, And with them were placed all the wealth of the world— Nor silver, nor gold, nor the spoils of the sea, Nor the garlands of fame that the world can bestow, But a purified heart that from sin is set free, I would ask for thee, friend, on thy journey below. James A.

Sitting in the woodland dim, Waves of God go over him, And the bird that sings apart Seems to voice deep Heaven's heart. All things intimately seen— Creeds nor theories between, All things credible—how sweet Not to even know deceit! Ah! if we would only know, Back to childhood we must go, Lose the learning of the book, Take a long, glad, loving look!

Come to me, Joys of Heaven! Breathe in thy summer air A balm—the long lost leaven Dissolving death, despair.      O little Heart!      To me thou art A sign that never can depart.

Immortal are the sons of God; Man claims the heritage, Love wakens now the thought of all, Who read the living page. Within our hand we find the Key That opens wide the door.