Questions & Answers

So after many days the healing came to Job When he prayed for his friends. How much more freedom might we gain If we too prayed, as Jesus prayed, For all mankind; If we forgave our friends and enemies, Saw them as we would have ourselves be seen.

I looked into the east. A mountain rose Majestic, crowned with purest white; But on the instant, as I gazed, it warmed Into a rosy glow, a rich irradiance Which drew all eyes to feast on beauty.

" Ye must be born again," the Master said. And there, on that dark roof top in the East, The wondering Nicodemus heard and mused: How.

As Abram on his age-old search obeyed The inward voice that said, Lift up your eyes, The land within your vision's grasp is yours, So modern wanderers who would be wise Will heed the word that tells their need to be, Not for possessions, but for eyes to see.

The Master came to Gethsemane, Where the trees were gnarled and dim. The night pressed heavily around And stones lay sharp upon the ground, But strength and peace at last he found— An angel talked with him.

Once on a day, As two trod wearily the long highway With faces toward Emmaus set And eyes that looked through tragic doubt to see Some friendly ray shatter the mystery, While yet they walked, A gentle stranger came and with them talked, And suddenly they knew—with hearts aglow Received the very Saviour whom they longed To find, to know. So here, today— When thought steps out beyond the senses' sway, The Father's house appears, the key we hold— Do not our raptured hearts within us burn Just as of old?

" That ye love one another. " This is a lesson then That sometime must be learned.

So small a room, To mortal sense so bare, Yet in that peaceful place She knew God's love—and there Her thought transfigured rose To bless mankind through prayer. Hers was the joy Of quiet victory, Within those humble walls, As faithfully she searched to see The fundamental Truth, To find the Scriptures' sacred key.

Now is the morn of resurrection, When thought awakes to man's perfection As Love's dear child, And human sense, inspired and lifted, Leaves mortal dreams in which it drifted, By sleep beguiled. Such is the power of this glad waking That its own spiritual force is breaking The seal of fears.

Her little son, her Jesus, It was now three days since he had gone, And sorrowing they journeyed searching. Jerusalem is reached again, And in the temple—there he stood, Among the learned men, Hearing and asking questions.