Questions & Answers
Fret not thyself. Thus does the Psalmist sing To calm the thought which envy's barb might sting When men appear to prosper and to thrive Through methods only worldlings could contrive.
Keener than shaft of light That penetrates the darkness; Softer than butterfly's wing That brushes petaled flower; Surer than eagle's flight On wing to its rock-bound aerie; Love brings the grace of God To heal in the suffering hour; To meet the human need With His omniscient power.
Boughs bright with scintillations will disclose Unnumbered sparkling-points of diamond dew Fired with the sun's own brightness. So the true Reflected radiancy of living glows From beams of being, and each beam bestows The splendor of its origin.
Deep-rooted in humility, The flower springs beneath His hand, Distinct in its identity As grain from grain of ocean sand. As star from star in magnitude, One from another differeth, Likewise, the grass blade, grace-endued, Is witness to the Almighty's breath: The breath of Life that maintains all— Or man, or woman, or flower, or star— Each as individual, Each in expression singular.
Stretch forth your hand to give And start at once to live With deeper gain. Stretch forth your hand to bless And feel the tenderness Of Spirit's reign.
I felt the quickening breath of Life divine When first the truth came to my waking thought; It came on tireless wings of healing grace, And to my tired heart new vigor brought. It lifted me above the fear of pain; I felt the strength of Spirit's holy might, Which holds and keeps the universe and man Forever in the consciousness of light.
No blueprint. No road map.
The rhythm of the spheres is manifest In gracious balance, order, symmetry, Sustained in perfect action, holy rest With no inertia or inharmony. The cadences of heaven reach the ear Attuned to Spirit, God, the One and All, And where eternal melodies appear There is no earthly pull, no rise or fall.
I had not known such beauty could be hidden Within the shelter of a word's embrace Until I stood beside hope's ash-gray embers And prayed to know the perfectness of grace. I saw a grace expressed in grassy meadows, In rain-swept hill, in budding boughs of spring; In native instinct of the homing swallows; In countless feathered lyrists' caroling.
No one can chart my way save God. Friends' love may comfort hold.