Poems

" As a little child" — I say the words, And they seem to give me rest; As a little child would I become, And lie on the Mother's breast, — For God is the Infinite Mother Who hath borne and carried us all, Who broods above With a tender love Aware of our faintest call. But I asleep to that brooding love, Have been content in the dream; Or, fretted myself by day, by night.

Love , indeed, is light from heaven; A spark from that immortal fire, With angels shared, by Allah given, To lift from earth our low desire. Devotion wafts the mind above, But heaven itself descends in love; A feeling from the Godhead caught, To wean from self each sordid thought; A ray from him who framed the whole; A glory circling round the soul.

Look not above, As up to sun or star, To find your heaven, For Heaven is here,— Is God, and God is near, Not far, and He is All. Thou canst not go to Him As unto earthly king, For God is Spirit, mind, And must be sought In highest, purest thought— The true above.

" God is not moved by breath of praise," Honest must be our call. Test Thou our life in all its ways,— Thou comprehendest all.

WHO walks the flower-bordered paths of Love With soul attuned to nature's song, learns that The hand of Love is but the Hand of God. O Mother Heart, thy love has found the Way, The Truth, the Life; has banished Sickness, Sin, And Death; upon thy gentle bosom, Fear Is soothed away, and Sorrow comforted; Thy healing hand is stretched o'er all the world In loving benediction;—of a truth That hand of Love must be the Hand of God.

Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light. —Ephesians, 5:14.

Dread , superstition, ignorance, strife; Years of darkness and waste of life, Sudden—a ray of Light broke through, Lighting and guiding the world anew. — W.

If I should say, Now I will think a thought, Lo! I must wait, unknowing What thought in me is growing, Until the thing to birth is brought; Nor know I then what next will come From out the gulf of silence dumb; I am the door the thing did find To pass into the General Mind; I cannot say I think— I only stand upon the thought-well's brink; From darkness to the sun the water bubbles up— I lift it in my cup. Thou only thinkest—I am thought; Me and my thought Thou thinkest, naught Am I but as a fountain spout From which Thy water welleth out.

No longer to a future Heaven, In a far-off, unknown land, I turn my eager, longing gaze; For Heaven is close at hand. It lies about me everywhere, This realm of harmony; It is the consciousness of Love, Which Truth unfolds to me; And every truthful word and deed.

A Woman climbed the mountain's crest, Her footsteps firm but slow, And resting on a great Rock's breast She views the World below. Life's river, flowing smooth and bright, Spreads out before her view; Its waters deep reflect the light Of Heaven's holy hue.