Questions & Answers
More beautiful the beauty of the flower, More sweet the song of bird and hum of bee. More grand the lofty mountain range and peak, More blue the azure of the sky and sea, Because I know Thy spirit pure Doth walk with me and make secure, And all the good I say and do Thou dost protect, and tak'st me through The waves of sense, which dash and foam, And guid'st me on to Thy dear home.
Forsaking the far country, famine scourged, Weary of wanton waywardness and urged By wakened memories, he homeward turned To find again the love once lightly spurned. This youthful prodigal, so debonair, So strong before, eager alone to fare, Now undeceived, his course repentant took, A suppliant, with humble, downcast look.
Into the village he went— The village of Bethany, The Nazarene, the man of power, Of gentle dignity. And into her house did Martha receive him, Hastening to render with housewifely care Of the best she might give of service there.
We have been blind, O Lord, Though we have walked abroad; The veil of mortal sense hid from our eyes All that we might have seen, All that was good and fair. For us no sun of righteousness could rise, Nor might celestial glory fill the skies; For mortal sight sees not, is ever blind, Unconscious of the all-creative Mind, Unconscious of Thy universe, Men, blinded by disease and sin's dread curse.
Day by day and hour by hour, In His love, Sin and sickness have no power, In His love; When clouds of sense disperse and flee, Revealing heaven's pure light to me, I rest in peace and joy, and see Just His love. Month by month and year by year, In His love, All that's false will disappear, In His love; Then with perfect vision clear, Life and Truth and Love appear; I am content—my all is here, Just His love.
To know Thee, Lord, as I am known of Thee, Oh, wondrous thought! To see as Thou dost see! This goal to reach, my prayer must ceaseless be. Then teach me, Lord, to pray.
At sunset time there comes to me A vision of the far-off sea That Jesus loved, in Galilee. A scene of peace at daylight's close, When evening sky so, brightly glows With golden clouds and hues of rose.
Winging towards celestial fire, Up to the golden sunset flames, See him mounting—higher, higher— As if rejecting earthly claims. And soon below, in milder radiance, He will sing, here, on this tree, Pouring forth cascading gladness In a shower, for you and me.
Oh , brave and true are they who truly think, Who fearlessly oppose the age-long drift, And its accepted concepts turn and sift, Holding aloft the truth, and letting sink Into oblivion the false beliefs, The source of all men's griefs! How glorious 'tis, firmly to stand and think, Held by desire to find the eternal stream And quench the thirst of those in desert dream; For none can help to bring this living drink Who do not arm themselves with Truth and Love 'Gainst error's hosts to move. How well-beloved is she with thought so clear, Who lately stood alone with God and found That thinking truly leads to battle ground Where fiercest conflicts rage, yet did not fear; For Love was inspiration, strength, and food, And Truth her broadsword good!
Dear God, Thy will be done—this is my prayer. I know there is no higher thought than Thine.