Poems

To hear the sounds of Soul Be silent as a star; As still as a stone; As mute as a mountain. With no noise the dawn breaks; With no sound the bud becomes a blossom; With no murmur A ray of light shines in everlasting splendor.

Sand, rock ground to dust, eager to shift, to blow with the wind, conforms under pressure and flows every way. Yet the furnace of fervent desire to be and do good can melt it to rock again, the more majestic formation that resists fragmentation, providing foundation for Christ's church, the solid conviction to build upon.

We are His, the flock of His good pasture. Love it is that seeks us out, enlightens and delivers us, gathers, feeds, and folds us, values each, keeps us safe in the gracious place of His serenely wise and loving presence.

Alone and newly arrived in a strange city I went to church, finding new depths of home and refreshing draughts of family in the pure spring of that love that is Church. Barbara L.

You sing! The hymn enfolds my longing hopes that seek some harmony afar off. You sing! The words are sweet, and clear, and true (the melody: pure peace).

Do we have to sit apart in some kind of cell in order to worship in daily life or is it a matter of attitude, of a standard clearly defined that takes us from day to day conscious of His law wherever we are worshiping on the move in touch with His all-embracing love? Marty E. Burwell.

Remember me? I sat as far away as I could and yawned at the good that delighted you. While you were sharing I was staring out the window trying to ignore the inspiration from God you so freely echoed.

The pillars of our church aren't marble or steel, aren't even the members— but their prayers! Prayers that reach realms of rejoicing: infinite Love's presence. Prayers through which best efforts expand to better understanding of man's relation to God.

Oh, how great is your love: For when I was brought to you, I came pitiful and wretched; when I lay foaming, cursing, thrashing, your mighty love would not be disturbed. Even when to all appearance I lay lifeless, you took my hand, and with your pure, unselfish seeing, knowing, you calmly said, Arise.

Open Thou my eyes, dear Father, To see what Thou would have me see, Beauty and holiness in all Thou art, Too pure to behold iniquity. Teach me to know only Thy presence So that I may bless and heal, That the world may see In my own vision Only that which Thou dost see Only that which is real.