Poems

OUT of the sordid, the base, the untrue, Into the noble, the pure and the new; Out of the darkness of fear and sin, Spiritual harmonies to win; This is our Resurrection. Out of the bondage of sickness and pain, Out of poverty's galling chain; Into the freedom of perfect health, into the blessing of fadeless wealth; This is our Resurrection.

"And thou shalt offer every day a bullock, for a sin offering. "— Exodus xxix.

ONE gaze at that calm, radiant face, Hath made me feel the deep disgrace Of weakness; And earthly errors have been crowned With Heavenly exaltation found In meekness. Tho' pain had power, and mental woe, To bow the soul; an after-glow Of sweetness, With spiritual inspiration, lends Perceptive grace which comprehends Completeness; For Science's purifying flame hath sent The light of Heaven's glory and content,— TRUTH'S greatness!

There dwells one bright Immortal on the earth, Not known of all men. They who know her not Go hence forgotten from the House of Life, Sons of oblivion.

The Science-thought is pure and free; It whispers low and sweet to me, "How good to dwell in unity. " From Life and Love this angel flew To quicken, happify, renew; Each may re-prove the message true.

O CHURCH of Christ! O House not made with hands; Nor builded on the smooth and treacherous sands That ever fail; But on unchanging Truth's eternal rock, Where storms of doubt and angry tempests' shock Can ne'er prevail! Thou stand'st secure, while earthly temples fall; And peace and joy are found within thy wall, Where Love doth reign! Thy light doth constant shine for mortals' weal, And will eternal Love for aye reveal In sweet refrain. Thy gates are shut to sickness, sin, and death; For only Purity here entereth,— Naught that defiles.

The following, said to be an early, unpublished poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow , seems one of his most spirited and spiritual productions. THE day was Easter, like a dying God in pain, The organ groaned aloud; The while the sunlight, chastened by the window's stain, Fell on a motley crowd; On lord and peasant, prince and pariah, who bore, As down the aisle they trod, As they had prospered, each according to his store, An Easter gift to God.

See the rivers flowing Downwards to the sea, Pouring all their treasures Bountiful and free: Yet to help their giving Hidden springs arise; Or, if need be, showers Feed them from the skies! Watch the princely flowers Their rich fragrance spread, Load the air with perfumes, From their beauty shed: Yet their lavish spending Leaves them not in dearth, With fresh life replenished By their mother earth! Give thy heart's best treasures, — From fair Nature learn; Give thy love — and ask not, Wait not a return! And the more thou spendest From thy little store, With a double bounty, God will give thee more. — Adelaide A.

It's strange how little boys' mothers  Can find it all out as they do! If a fellow does anything naughty, Or says anything that's not true. They look at you just for a moment, Till the heart in your bosom swells, And then they know all about it, That "little bird" tells.

For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us. —Ephesians ii.