Poems

"Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled. " — Jesus.

At night on the hills of Judea, The shepherds were watching the sky. Where fleecy clouds gathered and drifted, As the dawn of God's promise drew nigh.

Brood o'er us with Thy shelt' ring wing 'Neath which our spirits blend Like brother birds that soar and sing, And on the same branch bend. The arrow that doth wound the dove Darts not from those who watch and love.

Oh! for one moment just to realize That Love and Truth is Life and All in All! One flesh-free moment knowingly to crawl Outside this man-pieced, mutable disguise Of senses,—fears that chain and tyrannize Our thoughts, our smallest actions, and inthrall The omnipresent Goodness in a stall That's narrowed to the world's delirious guise. Oh! for one moment consciously to wreck The carnal mind, to thwart the senses' might, Cast off the clinging past, and disobey The cynic world; repel its wheedling beck, Receive one glint of omnipresent day Unchangeable; and prove there is no night.

There walked a man, when evening shades grew dim. Down on a lone and melancholy shore.

I have no answer for myself or thee, Save that I learned beside my mother's knee: "All is of God that is, and is to be; And God is good. " Let this suffice us still, Resting in childlike trust upon His will Who moves to His great ends unthwarted by the ill.

Slowly has dawned the day That brings soul's triumph nigh; Calmly the purpose lay Watched of Omniscient Eye: And early to the tomb, Come pilgrims wan with fear. Why breaks not through their gloom The wondrous Light so near? Mighty that stone of Fear That angels roll away, To bring us vision clear Of Resurrection Day.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? — 1 Cor. 15: 55.

Wake and sing! wake and sing! When the day is entering Thro' the open gates of dawn, And the dreary dark is gone! Hail, ye waves of living light Rolling off the clouds of night! Easter morning brightly breaks, Earth in dewy splendor wakes. Thankful sing! thankful sing! Choicest blossoms of the spring Weave in crowns and garlands rare,— Let their incense fill the air.

I am a weary, Mother God, I pray thee take me to thy rest. The call of Fame, the pride of place, The sheen of pageants round about, Are but the unsubstantial dream Of earth's environments.