Questions & Answers
Beholding him, the Master loved him well, This rich young man who even from childhood up Had lived discreetly in the fear of God, This rich but meek young man who running came! How seldom do the rich find need to run! And now the Master wished for one as earnest No bitter drop in a cup so far so sweet; No loss but durable riches, home and heaven. To sell the trivial and these riches buy, He counseled, but the young man turned away— Who might have walked with angels comradely, In strange and heartbreak silence turned away! Why sorrowful, we question as we read— His wealth was still his own, each coin was safe, But here, if ever, was true cause for grief: The bright, the perfect vision, almost held, The nearly-uttered, peace-bestowing choice, Were past! A door that opened to his knock Showing the lovely things of home, of heaven, Had closed! Small wonder he was sorrowful, Walking again the garish, earthy road.
" Could ye not watch with me one hour?" Our Master asked when evil crept And sought to hold him in its power. But he was left alone to pray, While those who loved him drowsed and slept.
There had been silence for three hundred years. The ancient ones had said Messias soon would come.
" Lord, Lord," I cried, and wondered why I was not healed. Had I not asked in faith and to God's love appealed? Yet my petition seemed denied.
The morning sun, at periods twice-yearly, Selects my neighbor's house and deftly plays Straight through both windows east and west, and clearly Lights up the western lawn, and seems to raise That house from realm of bulk—seems to remold Its shape as avenue for weightless gold. Let me perceive my neighbor's path to be Throughout all seasons, in all ways, aligned In such resplendent receptivity.
What were you thinking, Peter, that night, Chained in your cell by Herod's decree? What realization summoned the light Which cast off your fetters and set you free? Calmly you slept till touched on the side By an angel appointed to lead you away. "Come, rise up quickly!" the messenger cried, And straightway you followed, swift to obey.
My house is built upon the rock of Truth; Order and beauty rest securely there, While hungry hearts are fed with living bread, The sorrowing comforted and freed from fear. The angels of His presence guard its doors.
The tall trees shout hosannas, And the little green hills sing; Through every age, in confidence, Bright praise to God they bring. And he who sings, despite all things That threaten to destroy, Shall trace sweet springs in a desert place, And blossoming of joy; For neither sin nor sorrowing, Nor shadow of old wrong, Can long endure when steadfast, pure Delight pours forth in song.
" Behold, thou art made whole. " The Master's voice Pierced clouds of sense and made the heart rejoice With proofs that under Principle's decree Being is Love-filled, ceaseless harmony.
Who is a God like God? Shall we not bless The ever-preserving power Of His faithfulness? In the hardest experience we knew He caused us to find Sweetness, sustaining refreshment, Ere we left it behind. The flinty rock, Confronted without a fear, Yielded the oil of heavenly inspiration, The assurance of answered prayer.