Questions & Answers
Above the storm the missel thrush is singing, A challenge to the tempest in his song; Within my heart his joyous notes are ringing An angel message, "Child of God, be strong. " Above the sense of chaos and confusion Glad voices rise of those made whole and free: "The winds of God have swept away illusion, On wings of love Truth brings us victory.
Is this the feast, my Lord, these bitter herbs Of duty's sharp demands? Their taste disturbs My worldly ease, but promises a gain Beyond all dreams of pleasure or of pain. Is this the feast, this plain unleavened bread? It lacks sense satisfaction, and instead Is food that pleases not the carnal tooth: "Unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.
O Father-Mother God, Thou dost bestow A full inheritance of Love-filled days— This day, so joyous in the certitude Of Love's directing hand in all our ways— Tomorrow—promise of triumphant right, God's battles won, Love's victories assured— And yesterday, which cleansed away all fear And sin and proved that only good endured. I thank Thee, God, for all the days ahead— Days for living Love's reality— Days not measured finitely, but Love Unfolding good throughout eternity.
Who wastes his time in contemplating nothingness, Or pondering the symbol called "a naught"? Instead, in numerals, we take command of it, Add it to digits, one side or the other, To right or left—in either case to multiply. At right it amplifies—out to infinity; At left, increases to the infinitesimal.
Why should advancing years be thought less bright Than youthful days which lack what wisdom holds— The glow of mellowed love, the golden light Of judgment which experience unfolds? Are not the latter chords of melodies More brilliant than the early tune designs, The climax of a sonnet's harmonies More vivid than the first few opening lines? The kindliness and tolerance of all Who grow in grace with life's long afternoon Will be more lovely than the starry shawl That twilight drapes and pins with sickle moon. No dread of age assails the hearts who know That Spirit's beauty has eternal glow.
Science challenges the false marauding foe Of latent evil haunting human life And bids us be alert and wise to know Truth's power, which frees from sin and calms earth's strife. As we throw off the bonds opposed to Soul, Escape imprisoning walls of personal sense.
Is faith credulity, a tower Built on air, a daydream To console the trustful, circumvent despair? No. Faith is not a set of blinkers, Leading human thought to dogma And destruction.
As a pebble given unto the sea Launches an impulse ripplingly In circles widening evermore Till quiverings sparkle the farthest shore, So from Love's star of splendor bright The radiations of Love's light Outspread in infinite glow and grace Encircling all in divine embrace.
" Something has got to happen," the woman declared One noon in early spring, when sun lay warm On street and passer-by. All nature shared Its gentleness.
Suppose a figure in mathematics— Say a two or a seven, a thousand, a fraction— Could fall a victim to some attraction. Could become so bemused as to actually seem To have gone to sleep, to be dreaming a dream Of an upset universe of number Where, besieged by each other (in fear-filled slumber), Each seemed out of place and somewhere far From where law and order and Rightness are— (From where each numerical entity Remains unchanged through eternity, Where values, relationships, stand defined In the infinite calculus of Mind).