Poems

COMMUNION

JENNIE MAY MYERS.

This is a day of gladness, and my heartAccepts with joy and love the better part;Communes in secret with the One above,Omnipotent and omnipresent Love.

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HYMN OF PEACE

John Addington Symonds

These things shall be! A loftier raceThan e'er the world hath known shall rise,With flame of freedom in their soulsAnd light of knowledge in their eyes.

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"THY WILL, NOT MINE."

W. PETCH.

IN Thy pure sight, O wondrous eyes of God,Naught but the perfect thought is ever seen;For every serpent-fear, behold, a rod!On which the erring human sense may lean.

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THY guiding voice, O Truth, in thought I hear, Rebuking error, stilling grief and fear! My heart its healing benediction shrines; And lo, like sun-surf purpling hillside vines, A rush of radiance ripens power and cheer.

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TEACH ME

S. GORDON THOMSON

TEACH me to watch when mortal night is deepest, Assured there comes a passing of the night, When I may open wide my Father's window And point the rousing dreamer to the light.

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THE VOICE OF TRUTH

MARY J. ELMENDORF.

THY guiding Voice, O Truth, in thought I hear,Rebuking error, stilling grief and fear!My heart its healing benediction shrines;And lo, like sun-surf purpling hillside vines,A rush of radiance ripens power and cheer—Thy guiding Voice.

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SPIRITUAL SENSES

JACOB ANDREW HENRY

I SEE the God-thought in the tiny flowerThat peeps thro' grassy bed its timid face;And in th' emblazoned sun that hour by hourTrails countless satellites thro' boundless space.

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DISCIPLESHIP

KATHARINE J. SMITH

IF thou should'st look about thee in the sunlightAnd see a shaft of white within thy door,—One with a storeOf peace upon a brow transfigured, white;Christ's footfall too would thrill thy wakened ear,And by his omnipresence, and one dear,Would thy bare room be graced and glorified.

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OMNIPRESENCE

ADELLE E. BURCH.

I cannot doubt that Love attendsMy every step, where'er I go;No matter where the way may lead,Thy presence, Lord, dispels each woe.

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THE LESSON OF PATMOS

JOHN M. DEAN

No dwelling-place in palace walls,No cant of creed, no vain display,No cushioned couch nor gilded hallsCould mark the Revelator's way;But on a rock all drear and bare,A wave-washed, desolate abode,—The lone apostle praying thereDrew nearer to his loving God,On Patmos.