Poem January 15, 1938 Issue

What Hast Thou?

FLORENCE E. GLASS

The question came, "What hast thou in the house?
A little drop of oil in a cruse?
A cup of meal? Some sticks to build a fire?"
Aye, Lord, truly I have these things, and more;
So much more than I thought before Thou spok'st.
Yea, so much more! For when I heard Thy voice
A darksome cloud dispersed before my sight;
A sudden gentle gleam of radiant light
Spread and enveloped space, and then I saw
The wonders of Thy house—the house Thou mad'st
And gav'st to all Thy sons—a glorious place!
Teeming with life, intelligence divine;
Warm with the glow of Thy enfolding love;
Rich with Thy grace. Indeed, 'twas plain to see
There ne'er had been the things of which I'd dreamed—
Toil, debt, depression, lack, and fear,
The hand of greed exacting tribute rare,
Yet having naught to give save dull despair.
The dream is gone, all gone e'en as the night
Is melted 'neath the dawning glow of day.
And lo, within its place I find Thy truth!
The question then, What have I in my house?
O gracious One, at least this I can say—

I thank Thee, God, great Giver of all good,
For eyes to view the wonders of Thy house,
For ears to hear the harmony of Love,
For words to praise; for recognition of
The pure and perfect plan for all Thy sons;
For gift of Principle, unspeakable,
Reflected in my brother everywhere.
For this unfolding light which gently leads
Away from things mundane to heights beyond
The ken of mortal mind, I thank Thee, God.
As this eternal house—reality—
So be my endless song of praise to Thee.

Send a comment to the editors

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit

What Hast Thou?

We'd love to hear from you!

Sign up for unlimited access