PS 3535 
 il .U43 P6 
 1922 
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 Copyrighted 1922 
 LYNN K. RUMELL 
 LOGANSPORT, INDIANA 
 
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 ©C1A660858 
 
DEDICATED 
 TO 
 MY DEAR MOTHER 
 AND 
 MRS. INEZ HAIGH, LOS ANGELES, CAL., 
 
 Both instrumental in developing the highest Ideals, 
 and ambitions of my life. 
 
Go, little messengers of truth, 
 Out into the world and bring me proof. 
 Proof, that my thot has touched the Divine, 
 That you come from God, are not mine. 
 
 Proof, that I ani Divinely led. 
 The w^orld's heart is hungry, must be fed. 
 That it's hands are groping for higher truth. 
 And by heeding this call I may help in both! 
 
BACK TO GOD 
 
 I love t' talk o' th' crops an' weather, 
 
 T' hear of another'si finery an' feather. 
 
 I love th' touch o' th' silken robe, 
 
 An' th' lazy fragrance o' th' rich man's road I 
 
 I love th' joy of an honest day's toil. 
 
 Though it tire me with in an' bring met soil! 
 
 But 1 also love th' ephemeral blue, 
 Th' call o' th' bird, an' th' startled hue, 
 O' it's homin' mate. 1 love t' gaze 
 In th' distant sky, an* love t' dream, 
 O' th' things out there that I seem 
 T' have seen in th' days gone by! 
 
 An' how I love t' slip out int' space, 
 
 An' answer that call face t' face. 
 
 Oh I love th' thrill an' th' ecstacy, 
 
 That I believe God meant v/as curs t' be. 
 
 I love it! An' though but an earthly clod, 
 
 I believe lis the read, tbat leads back t' God! 
 
 THE LONGING 
 
 I live in a land of sunshine 
 
 While my heart crys out for the storm! 
 
 A Icng, deep breath of 'he elements: 
 
 That only comes to the strong. 
 
 The strong of the soul and spirit, 
 
 That calls naught but the good and pure. 
 
 Out of the God given forces, 
 
 That shall forever endure! 
 
THE POTTER 
 
 You are the clay in the Potter's hand! 
 
 The plan of the Potter you can't understand. 
 
 If you rebell, you may break the mold, 
 
 And years go by ere some truth be told I 
 
 If you work with the Potter, do as your bid. 
 
 You will find the truth of Life in each mold hid. 
 
 THE CONSUMING FIRE 
 
 Rebell not, at the cold supervision 
 Of the daily contact with life. 
 It is thus God has made provision 
 Of refining the soul through strife! 
 
 This struggle, lifts a strong soul higher, 
 Gives the weaker one strength to pursue: 
 In fact, it is the consuming.; fire 
 Which to spiritual birth we pass through. 
 
 A GEM 
 
 One gem so pure in it's clear reflection. 
 Little is needed to bring to perfection. 
 Another, though pure, a tiny spot is found. 
 It must pass thro the w^orkshcp and be ground. 
 
 Ground free from the litter, that most gems know^: 
 Sometimes to the heart to remove the flav/! 
 That God's most w^onderous light thro this gem 
 May be reflected back to the hearts of men! 
 
CONTENT. 
 
 I pined for Youth, 1 hated years, 
 I grieved for the buoyant step. 
 
 Although youth gave not to me 
 Motherhood, w^isdom nor tears. 
 
 That cruciblle, whence we are refined, 
 A moment, to us, from Eternity lent. 
 I find life's richness now in yeairs, 
 And within my soul, 1 am content! 
 
 Content, if one great thought I produce! 
 Christ began not, his mission, in his youth! 
 The Vision I have, I believe God sent. 
 Can I help the world see it, I shall be content! 
 
 LIFES DREAMS 
 
 It seems that this life is made up of dreams. 
 Youth dreams only, of life's on coming flow. 
 Old age looking back o'er the way it has come, 
 Finds it's joy in dreaming of that long ago. 
 
 Dreams, dreams, is it nothing but dreams? 
 
 Man is never satisfied with his today. 
 
 The joys of thi&Tife, grow dearer it seems, 
 
 When into our dreams, they Ixave vanished away. 
 
 W^ dream of lips, in the past we have kissed. 
 While hands that we loved, touch ours, it seems. 
 For yeard we chase phantoms, that do not exist; 
 Will all life, in the end, prove but a Dream? 
 
SPIRITUAL UNDERSTANDING 
 
 In a sky of azure, tinged with* glory; 
 Mid pale clouds of softning hue, 
 i seem to read this old world's story. 
 Feel thoughts of God come drifting thro. 
 
 In ages past, when man's old theory 
 Bound him to earth, with darkened view; 
 He little dreamed, he reflected God's glory. 
 The inspired words of the prophets were true! 
 
 Those sturdy old prophets of our God, 
 With their childlike faith in Hini alway. 
 Were the fcundaticn blanks e'er v/hich w^e trod. 
 To the spiiitual understanding of this day. 
 
 I seem to see the hands uplifed. 
 
 Of each generaion, seeking spiritual truth; 
 
 And out of each, comes some few, gifted 
 
 With spiritual understanding to bring us proof. 
 
 All down the ages, these hands intertwining, 
 Each generation goes higher in their thot of God, 
 Until in this day, we are just beginning 
 To know man as spiritual where ere' he may trod. 
 
 I sense in this grow^th, at a time not far distant. 
 As measured by eternal, not material, rod, 
 Man will loose all the material, spirit persistant. 
 And find himself and the Universe, onq with God I 
 
 CONTENT. 
 
 Content, thou art the wonderful jewel, 
 In he head of the ugly toad; 
 But thy beckoning gleams, of glowing fire, 
 Lead down many a thorny road! 
 
GROWING 
 
 I have ploughed another furrow, 
 Gone deeper in Hfe's rich soil. 
 The way wasi far from a pleasure, 
 But twas worth all cf the pain and toil. 
 
 1 tremble at the vision it brings me. 
 I am blinded, and cold with fear, 
 Lest 1 am too small for it's greatness, 
 May net to the world, make it clear. 
 
 I draw strength from that inner something, 
 That will not be hushed or stilled, 
 But I open my soul to the Infinite; 
 Knowing it's promises are all fulfilled. 
 
 THE PRICE 
 
 Oh! Thou soul bowed down, why dost thou grieve. 
 Or stfiiggle, from what seems prison to be free? 
 God gave thee thy mind and will, so strong. 
 Thy path to choose. Didst thou choose wrong? 
 
 Dost truly know this path is not best for thee? 
 Wouldst thou thy wisdom match, with him of Galilee? 
 Dost thou rebell at that, which does thy duty seem? 
 Service, was the w^atchw^ord of the lowly Nazerene! 
 
 The heartaches and burdens, that doth thee now oppress. 
 In after years, looking back, may prove your happiness. 
 Hope defered, hard w^ork, constant striving is the price 
 Each conquering soul must pay, for it's chosen Paradise I 
 
MY GARDEN WALK 
 
 Hollyhocks and daisies, grow along my garden walk, 
 They nod and talk to me, just like ordinary folk. 
 All they say, I'd never tell, altho it sometimes seems to n: '■ 
 That every one must see and hear the things I hear and see. 
 
 And as we visited and gossiped, one lazy day in June, 
 A, solemn stately hollyhock, beckoned me amid the bloom, 
 As I hastened to her side, she smiled and bowed her head, 
 "Do you know that flowers have missions in this world," she 
 sweetly said. 
 
 Have you ever stopped to think, just what flowers meant to you 
 In their fragrant, upward struggle toward the bright and sunny 
 
 blue? 
 EACH has it's tiny mission, which by the law, it must fulfill, 
 Until this it has accornpUshed, it must go on blooming still. 
 
 That mission may not be one of grandeur, pomp, or pride. 
 It may be just a thot of courage, to a gentle timid bride. 
 Just a fragrant cooling touch, to a shutin baby'^ hand, 
 A calm and peaceful tribute, to one who died for fatherland. 
 
 As with you, so with we flowers, each must his mission fill!" 
 The hollyhock gave me a stately bow, and touched her dainty 
 
 frill. 
 I gazed about in muLe surpriire, at those colored perfumed 
 
 lazieS, 
 But from that day, felt move respect for my hollyhocks and 
 
 dailies. 
 
THE OPEN ROAD 
 
 Ah the freedom you feel on the open road! 
 Close fellowship with cattail and goldenrod. 
 And the Autumn tints of deep brown and gold 
 Show the Summer gone, as a tale that is told. 
 
 With the long road winding so far, it seems 
 To give promise at its end, of the house of Dreams! 
 But we never w^ould dare, enter this Abode 
 With lesser Vision, than that of the open road! 
 
 Along the way, the rose gold and green 
 
 Might be wished on, the earth, by a fairy queen: 
 
 And the Inspiration one finds, show her mode 
 
 Of giving courage to the traveler on the open road. 
 
 If we kept in our heart, nature's rose and gold, 
 Our thoughts to our fellows, would never grow^ cold. 
 We would help, each the other, to carry his load. 
 And spread the good fellowship of the open road! 
 
 THE DREAM AND HIS DREAM 
 
 You dream your dream, and you cease to be, 
 
 Of the world, that seems a reality. 
 
 You travel and live in your real self, 
 
 That you would not exchange for fame or pelf! 
 
 You find the veil between, so very thin. 
 
 Question comes, v/here docs the dream begin? 
 
 And end? Or does it end? Can ycu say? 
 
 Perhaps the dream, is the day by day 
 
 Life you live in ycui' earthly plod. 
 
 And you find your real self in 
 
 Your dreanri and God! 
 
JUST A BOY 
 
 Isn*t he wonderful I 
 
 He may be just boy to you; 
 
 But I sense beneath his roughness/ 
 
 A depth divine, a something so true. 
 
 That when touched by the proper' feel, 
 
 We soon reach deep wells of richness. 
 
 Responding quickly, as magnet to steel. 
 
 Isn't he wonderful! 
 
 Isn't he wonderful! 
 He has the power of deepest grief. 
 O'er a real wound, a real heartache, 
 Or perhaps, at times, just a belief. 
 He has the making of Prince or Clown, 
 And that finer gift, we all would take 
 He goes from grief to joy in a bound! 
 Isn't he wonderful! 
 
 Isn't he wonderful! 
 
 O isn't it wonderful that you and I 
 
 Have that power, that com.es not of the sod. 
 
 To give the world, man, with an aim so high, 
 
 One knows he is spirit, has only to reach out 
 
 To take all that has been promised of God, 
 
 And prove the sonship, Christ told us about! 
 
 Isn't he wonderful! 
 
 A COWARD 
 
 A coward is he, who to, venture, is afraid. 
 No enduring success in this life is made 
 With Fear at the helm, as you answer life's call. 
 Launching out to win, or to Icose your all! 
 
REALITY 
 
 The sea, the wave and the sunset, 
 
 The call of the bird in the gloom, 
 
 A white sail just glimpsed in the farwest, 
 
 Bring a sense of life's vastness to come. 
 
 We all sense it out there in the distance. 
 Behind this wall of material things; 
 Of which we make such a hindrence. 
 We see little of the Reality life brings. 
 
 Reality isn't seeking luxury and ease, 
 
 A mad rush after pleasure and pow^er. 
 
 It is rather the sweet contentment and peace 
 
 The soul finds in it's communion hour. 
 
 That hour may be filled with life's duties, 
 Or the ministering to another in ne«d. 
 But by seeking in each task, it's beauties, 
 We find ourselves spiritually freed. 
 
 Perhaps, tis but a moment w^e travel 
 In the spirit; we neither see, think or feel: 
 We return from this communion and marvel; 
 But we know the False from the Real! 
 
 SEEKING 
 
 No matter how^ long the struggle, 
 Nor how hard the trail may be, 
 Remember, while you are seeking a truth, 
 That same truth is seeking thee! 
 
THE GLORIOUS MOUNTAIN. 
 
 1 see this life as a glorious ntcuntain, 
 The slow climbing of which we begin 
 As we drink of it's first flowing fountain, 
 Drowsing to the lullaby, the mothers sing. 
 
 As 1 gaze at this wonderful mountain, 
 With its broad era and infinite height, 
 1 feel, we do not see its highest expansion. 
 For no man, as yet, may stand such light. 
 
 As 1 look round at its base, at all mankind. 
 The material things, of which all seem so proud, 
 Then gazing up at the highest climbers, I find 
 The Crown of Life's mountain, still in cloud. 
 
 At its base, life's climbers, I see are many. 
 
 Full of love, hope, ambition, high desire. 
 
 Toiling up they pick baublas, that prove burdens 
 
 Weight of v.'hich keep the sou! from going higher. 
 
 Looking higher, the crowd we find thinning. 
 As they struggle on and up toward the height. 
 One by one, go the burdens, which in beginning, 
 Were more dear than the journey toward light. 
 
 As 1 gaze closely, at lifes highest climbers. 
 They have shed the tinsel and burdens of youth. 
 And now, alert to the souls Inspiration, 
 Climb straight up life's mountain to truth. 
 
 Those climbers, of whom we speak of as dying, 
 O^ which fear l.as been voiced long and loud, 
 Still live, ar<d 1 believe, ave stili climbing, 
 Tho they've passed from our v'sion, in the clcvd. 
 
LIFE 
 
 DID you ever think, of the sacrifice, failures. 
 There are embodied in just one success) 
 Or how many aching hearts, and weary hands 
 Encompass your clinging silken dress? 
 
 Did you ever think, as you gaze in rapture. 
 At some beautiful building or work of art; 
 Just how many failures, formed the bridge, 
 O'er which success met the world's busy mart? 
 
 Did you ever think, as you strive and struggle, 
 For that w^hich seems to elude you today. 
 That, tho you seem to fail, you do not, but foi« 
 One with a bigger vision, you have paved the way? 
 
 Did you ever think, real living, is just service. 
 In that which you are best fitted to give? 
 So let us live each day so vividly, w^onderfully, 
 TV.at the best in us, may go on and on, and Live! 
 
 THE EVENING STAR 
 
 O the restfull silence o' the evening star! 
 
 It gi'ed me strength and it gi'ed me pow^er 
 
 Alaing the road o' life! 
 
 It look't doon on my bairny days, 
 
 My youth past, present, fuUo' praise. 
 
 Serene amid a' strife! 
 
 O the restful silence o' the evening' star! 
 
 May it wrap't me roond, as I cross the bar 
 
 And loose* a' thought o' strife! 
 
 It speaks o' peace in its clear white rays; 
 
 Has stood sentinal, for endless days 
 
 At the dour o* Eternal life! 
 
THE PROMISED LAND 
 
 Did you ever sit as though in a dream, 
 just wool gathering, some would say; 
 When the tables, chairs and walls all seem 
 As though in a mist, to just fade away? 
 
 And you seemed in a different country, 
 From where you lived, tho it is not strange. 
 For in your clearest, calmest moments 
 You have known it v\ras there within range. 
 
 And you wandered through hills and valleys, 
 Filled with the Spirit of Eternal youth. 
 You seemed to have lost all Doubt and Fear, 
 And see all life through the eyes of Truth. 
 
 You seemed to see the crest of all your Ambition! 
 Some, you thought you had lost, slipped thro your hand. 
 A dream? Perhaps! But it gives hope of completion. 
 Of your choisest wish, glimpsed in that promised land! 
 
 MAGIC MEMORY 
 
 Just the fragrance of a rose, 
 
 But oh, what a potent power. 
 
 To brush aside your trials, and expose 
 
 The deep joy of a long lost hour. 
 
 Just a baby's little brown shoe, 
 
 So worn at the heel and toe. 
 
 But the gossamer threads that bind it to you 
 
 Are from your Dream castle of long ago. 
 
 Just a strain of music sweet, 
 
 But is has power to set free. 
 
 Dream faces, of the past, that rush to meet 
 
 And greet you, in magic memory. 
 
WHY? 
 
 Oh that eternal question, older than you or I, 
 That begins and ends, with that one word-Why! 
 Why- that cosmic call, that conies to you and me; 
 Found in all God's handiwork, earth, sky and sea? 
 
 Why- that soul hunger, the pull on the silver cord 
 That seems to connect w^ith some vast starry horde 
 Of Infinite power? Why thdt grosser material sense 
 That makes all that is spiritual to us seem so dens«? 
 
 Why-are years of ones life, spent in shallows and pain? 
 Why not let go; when by holding there seems little to gain? 
 Why-in life's battle, when the will seems to grow old, 
 Let go in the struggle: do we find, the soul keeps it's hold? 
 
 Why-must man wade through so much mud, so much mire, 
 Tc find his spiritual selfhood, all that id higher? 
 Why-does man think to gain the Christ thot he must die? 
 My soul in grieved ignorance, crys cut Why? Oh Why? 
 
 THE ONLY POWER 
 
 I stood there, dumb and bewildered, 
 Before a door that seemed closed to me. 
 I could feel the lure beyond it's portals. 
 But it seemed, that gold was the only key! 
 
 I lacked it:my hands seemed tired, empty. 
 And I felt in my heart, I could do no more! 
 From all the trust of the past I was tempted! 
 When lo! I found Love had opened the door! 
 
 If we cou'.d purge our souls of all doubting. 
 Do cur tasks, trusting, each day, each hour; 
 We would find the doors we thot closed, open, 
 And-that Love was the orly real Power! 
 
WHAT IS HELL 
 
 Who is it tells u*, there is no hell? 
 Only he, to whom real suffering has never come. 
 Not the dis-eaae and pain the body knows so well. 
 But the anguish and despair that makes the soul dumb! 
 
 To know, that behind you, long years have unrolled. 
 Taking life's greatest touch-stone, enthusiastic, youth, 
 With it's opportunities and possibilities untold. 
 While you walked blinded, by the glamor, to Hfe's truth! 
 
 Not-to know, if long years, or short, lie before you. 
 In which you must gr<^ in leaps, to hear, **It is well" 
 To feel, you cannot crowd All, into the years now due you. 
 Surely the soul can never know, a greater Hell! 
 
 I am sure Hell cannot be material fire and burning. 
 For toe many, suffer Hell's full measure, here on earth. 
 And when v/e are called by Death, beyond Life's curtain, 
 What is there left to burn, beyond that birth? 
 
 While we may not understand, all this life has meant, 
 Just as sure as Christ said, that Heaven within doth dwell, 
 And that this life, was but a moment, from Eternity lent. 
 Just that sure am I, we need only look within, for our Hell! 
 
 WHICH? 
 
 Follow the crowd, you have lots of company. 
 If you think for yourself, you stand alone! 
 But, few things of w^orth, of this world's work, 
 From out of the crowd, have come! 
 
 The joy, anci the sparkle and pleasure. 
 Of the motly and music, draw much. 
 But, tis out of the soul's silent places. 
 The world finds the healing touch! 
 
YOUR OWN SALVATION 
 
 Your brain may be steeped, with ancient lore. 
 
 With a hne of royal ancestry, gone before. 
 
 You may have wealth and polish, as we now days call, 
 
 But-you must work your own salvation, after all! 
 
 THE ROBE OF DESTINY 
 
 There is a cosmic thread runs thro' each soul 
 That leads us onward, to our goal. 
 In the warp and w^oof of this garment, perchance, 
 We find Fatei stronger than circumstance. 
 
 Circumstance, is the events of the day. 
 We live each one, and they pass away. 
 Destiny, is God's hand, of all doubt shorn, 
 i hat leads us to that for w^hich we were born! 
 
 BUILDERS 
 
 Through passion and pain and suffering. 
 Great trials, deep troubles and stress. 
 In years we gain a spiritual stronghold. 
 That we may loose in one moment's weakness? 
 
 Great dams, 'gainst mighty waters are builded, 
 Of strong concrete, iron girders and rock: 
 Just one faulty place, and though gilded- 
 It is no stronger than that one tiny spot! 
 
 And so-as we build this life's bulwark. 
 With all that is unclean, from us shorn. 
 If we leave one tiny weakness unguarded, 
 We may fail, that, for which we w^ere born! 
 
THE STORM 
 
 ■ ;!i the wonderful majesty of clouds in storm! 
 They roll and charge, as tho some secret form 
 Is known and fixed by a loftier hand, 
 To give blessings thro strife, to our fair land! 
 
 So it is with us, as beneath our burden of life. 
 We find our highest selves, working thro strife. 
 That same awe I feel, at rhe clouds in storm, 
 I feel watching a soul take mightier form! 
 
 As we reach and strive for the loftier things. 
 We find the struggle and 'itrife, a storm always brings. 
 But the soul's peace and joy, that w^e feel take form 
 Is the promise of the rainbow, after the storm! 
 
 TWILIGHT 
 
 Twilight, blue sky with gray overcast! 
 It brings such a deep soul silence, 
 And the looking back into the past! 
 Twilight is memory 1 
 
 Twilight brings thots of childhood, 
 With tired head, on mother's knee. 
 Full repentart, longing to be good! 
 Twilight is memory! 
 
 Twilight, and the cow's far lowing. 
 Seems like a call from the past to me! 
 Sweet drcair.s, like a benidiction flowing! 
 Twilight is memory! 
 
THE BATI LE INVISIBLE 
 
 Ah! We may sing of that conquering hero, 
 And of the mighty battles that he has won. 
 Tis true, that, full many lies under the snow, 
 Whose great victories, must go unsung. 
 
 But what shall we say, of the conquering hero, 
 Whose only battlefield, is his ow^n great soul? 
 Where Ambition calls, still e burning glow. 
 And lures him on, with a fingei of gold. 
 
 Whose only warriors, are Love and Duty, 
 They who will not bow down nor fawn; 
 In v/hose bosom, lies the secret of all beauty, 
 And who will struggle for viclcry, till dawn. 
 
 WhcTi you've fought life's battles, •w'ith Duty and Love, 
 
 Against Ambition, lust or the lure of gold. 
 
 You may claim of the angel, the blessing above. 
 
 As did the faithful prophet, of old. 
 
 Your battles, victories, maybe unseen, unsung, 
 All the days of your years prove miserable. 
 But your poise and strength, tc a few in the throng. 
 Prove, you've fought and won, the Battle Invisible! 
 
 THE UNIVERSAL STREAM 
 
 Are my thoughts, the wanderings of a vapid mind? 
 
 Or will I ever in this world, the answer find 
 
 To the burning questions, that flame within, 
 
 That inspire me to good, but never to sin? 
 
 Will the time ever come, when the world will see 
 
 These things as I see them, hear them, and know 
 
 That from the heart of the Universe, to all they flow! 
 
THE GARMENT OF LIFE 
 
 I shall liken this life, to a garment, 
 The long weaving, of which is begun 
 At the child's earliest conscious moment. 
 And sometimes, -before it is born! 
 
 Foi* too oft, in a thought prenatal. 
 Lies error's seed of greed ai^d hate:- 
 Which they find to the child proves fatal- 
 Only perhaps, when it is too late! 
 
 The first silken threads of life's garment 
 Are \\'oven of mother's smiles and tearai; 
 Blended v/ell, with scund and sunshine, 
 And mayhap, many childish fears! 
 
 Comes the bright colored threads of playday, 
 Just woven, hit or miss, as it were. 
 But oh the great joy of that May day. 
 Viewed, now, from the place where we are! 
 
 Then the many hued, wonderful schooldstys, 
 Are woven into life's beautiful scheme. 
 From which, the pattern, in niany true w^ays, 
 Shows forth in our life's afte? Theme! 
 
 Those bright colored threads of our schooldays 
 Make the weave of this fdSric, coarse or fine! 
 Have you thought, how many hands, in one life maze, 
 Work on the pattern, of this Garment Divine? 
 
 We start life, as a small piece of drift wood. 
 That touches many different banks as it goes. 
 It whirls, ebbs, is lifted, gathering bad or good, 
 But it must go, as the currant flows! 
 
Then-tKe multi-colored threads of Ambition I 
 Oh! thou Goddess of stren.jth to all men! 
 What strong soul, that, of it's own volition, 
 Hath not kneeled and prayed at thy Shrine! 
 
 Ah! those golden threads of Youth's love time. 
 We find them, woven into each garment of life: 
 ".r,d tlieir griefs, even more than those of our prime, 
 Have the keen pow^er to cut like a knife. 
 
 Then, those sv*cet solemn threads, the marriage troth. 
 Makes the fit of life's Garment, seem secure !- 
 But these threads of life, must be of true love. 
 If this portion of the garment shall endure! 
 
 Woven, in this wonderful pari, of life's garment, 
 Are many tiny thought fragments, of prayer: 
 Like flowers, blooming unseen, of sweet scent, 
 They are destined, never to breath the air. 
 
 Tho' unheard, unseen, by the multitude, 
 Unsuspected, sometimes, in the strife; 
 These thot prayers, are the source of your fortitude, 
 The very Essence, in your self, of Life! 
 
 Ah! here, is a thread, -so fine and silken. 
 Just a tiny w^ee, gossamer strand. 
 That speaks of nigh^ w^atches, w^hen you w^aken, 
 To the sweet touch of a baby's hand! 
 
 Here, is the wonderful thread of friendships. 
 That reflects the moon's ray, silver white! 
 Many noble patterns, in its ceaseless trips, 
 Friendship's thread, in our garment brings to light! 
 
So, -as we are weaving life's garment, 
 The pattern, stands out, clear and bold; 
 And according to it's form anc' beauty, 
 Man's innermost thoughts are told. 
 
 And as we work on this vvonderfui garment 
 With the shuttle of the houra running fast, 
 Of cur-selves, v/e w^eave joy or torment, 
 And w^e view^ our own hand work at last! 
 
 Can we display this garment in triumph, 
 
 That we have woven, while here on this plane, 
 
 As we march up the last Hili:-or defiant, 
 
 Shall w^e seek to hide, in our garment of shame? 
 
 VISION 
 
 It is not a thing you see with your eye. 
 
 Nor yet, a soothsayer, as somt might imply. 
 
 It is a conviction, an invisible Sense, 
 
 That brings you a picture of events. 
 
 Past, present, or future, I care not what it be. 
 
 True Vision, I know, is of Eternity! 
 
 THE TALENTS 
 
 Each to himself, his gift is given. 
 Can you deny, they come from heaven? 
 One sings, one soars, some piay, somie heal: 
 But each must the touch of the Master feel! 
 The tale of tthe Talents, each day is told: 
 We bring much or little, of the Master's gold. 
 We learn thro' their use the law of heaven, 
 "To him who hath, it shall be given." 
 
SEPERATION 
 
 Where aeperation greater, than in thought? 
 
 It is deeper and wider than can be bought 
 
 Before the learned law! 
 
 Two souls may dwell side by side and never know 
 
 The thought caressing each other's heart! 
 
 It may be one we find sublime, 
 
 A glorious blessing to all mankind. 
 
 The other thot, tho dwelling close beside, 
 
 May sear and burn like a flaming brand. 
 
 Could they be farther apart, if each one sought. 
 
 And found for himself, the ends of the land? 
 
 I ONLY KNOW 
 
 I only know you call 
 Across the intervening space: 
 I know you call, I come; 
 I cannot see you now, 
 I only know^ some day 
 I'll meet you face to facel 
 
 The song you sing, was once for me. 
 Your smile was mine, so gay and free: 
 
 Though years divide, 
 And space intervine, 
 I only know, all, 
 Shall be as it has been! 
 
 DUAL 
 
 For some wonderful reason, in infinite Mind's own plan, 
 I find my ethereal pinions, bound to material man. 
 I soar far out in the open, seeking all spirit may contain! 
 I rejoice in returning, but seem of myself, to be twain! 
 
TRUE AMBITION. 
 
 I am just a little tempted, to vain regret arid tears. 
 Begin to feel the pressure of the past^ and coming years. 
 To see th© opportunities, &lrewn, in the past, in my way, 
 That I fain would grasp and fulfill , now, in my latter day. 
 
 What are riches and jewels, V/hat are houses and land. 
 If fondest hope of the heart, is bound with the hand? 
 Oh what pain and deep' grief, to live in repression. 
 When every fiber of your being, crys for expression! 
 
 There should be no wall too high, no gulf too deep. 
 There should be no valley too dark, no hill too steep, 
 To deter that soul, spurred by true ambition. 
 To bring the gift God gave it, to full fruition! 
 
 UNTO THE END 
 
 When we have reached out into that limitless beyond. 
 And touched sk chord, to which our hungry souls respond. 
 Within, we know^, that the souls absolute release, 
 Is the only thing, that can the soul appease. 
 
 Ah, we truly know that each hath his place, his mission. 
 In this life: its joy and its tasks, -but listen, 
 To him who hath the Vision, that only God doth send, 
 This earthly 'life, but proves a means, unto the end! 
 
 POSSESSION 
 
 There is no obsession, 'tis only possession 
 Of the Forces within us, God gives to each soul 
 This possession to you may mean riches untold! 
 The real riches of life, that each day doth unfold. 
 
 If your earthly veil hath become so dense, 
 That you cannot feel this Possession of God: 
 You may find in the end, you have lost the road, 
 And revert you tack, -as the seed to the sod! 
 
THE LIKES O' ME 
 
 I claim naught, but what I seem to be! 
 A wee bit aft--in the upper key :- 
 Some say o' one o' Hkes o' me! 
 
 I care not what a' the world, may think! 
 
 My ain inner thoughts, are as meat and drink 
 
 To one o' the Hkes o' me! 
 
 A' my days, in God, I put my trust! 
 Each, his ain salvation, work, he must. 
 Thinks one o' the Hkes o' mel 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF GOD 
 
 Nothing of good is ever lost; 
 
 Like a pebble dropped in waters wide 
 
 It spreads and reaches the other side. 
 
 Going back to the mother thot, springing from Him. 
 
 For He said "The Kingdom of God is w^ithin! ' 
 
 It may be but a smile, an unspoken word. 
 
 You give to another, as you pass in the crowd. 
 
 Goes it not forth? Ah! Yes my daughter. 
 
 For the Master said, **E*n a cup of cold w^ater!" 
 
 AS A LEAF 
 
 From out the ever Presence, around and above, 
 
 We catch tiny strains, of the eternal song of love! 
 
 As a leaf, born along on the river's breast. 
 
 We touch the banks, only when the water's at its crest! 
 
 MOTHER 
 
 I find in "Mother" the essence o life. 
 Greater than sweetheart, deeper than w^ife. 
 In this earthly plane, tis the silver thread, 
 That leads us on, though the bcdy be dead I 
 
THE TRAVELERS. 
 
 A» I gaze into the starry distance. 
 Past all this earthy night, 
 1 see a glorious path way. 
 Flooded with w^ondrous ligntl 
 
 It is filled with joyous travelers, 
 Whose faces, reflecfc this light 
 i hey are the fleshbound spirits, 
 Who have passed the belief of night. 
 
 They've proved in their souls center. 
 They are absolute Spirit now. 
 Need not pass death's doorway, to enter 
 The fulfillment, of that God given vow! 
 
 They reach from the dim, dark ages. 
 Of the past, down to the present day. 
 Each bearing his small proof, eternal, 
 Till all doubt, has been swept away. 
 
 Below, along this wondrous pathway. 
 Stretching farther than eye can see, 
 Lies a plain; crowded w^ith beings 
 Of the earth, earthy, longing to be free. 
 
 They are not willing to deny the fleshpots, 
 Acknow^ledge, God gave spiritual man control 
 Over the universe, and all therein created. 
 Over all the material seems to hold! 
 
 They are a vast throng, of discontented. 
 Inharmonious, creatures of night: 
 With an occasional stir and commotion 
 A« one faces, and steps into the light. 
 
So-the throng swells in the lighted pathway. 
 They come, -all races, colors and creed. 
 Their faces refiecting the joyousness, 
 That, from the belief of earth they are freed! 
 
 I see that dim line of the past growing broader, 
 Into a vast, mighty throng, here belov/. 
 1 believe the words of the prophet, will be proven 
 On this earth: that every knee shall bowl 
 
 MYSELF 
 
 What is this thing, I call myself? 
 
 That out of the universe, hath selected me, 
 
 To dwell in: and dwelling, at last replace, 
 
 The lesserman that we see each day? 
 
 I know not! Neither does he of higher plane. 
 
 But from somewhere I kno\v', tis the spiritual man 
 
 Thad lives on, when the material, passes away I 
 
 THE CALL 
 
 A rose gold cloud, in a bank of blue. 
 Brings me a dream-I would tell to you. 
 *Tis not of wealth, or power, or fame. 
 And I cannot tell, from whence it came* 
 
 But as I gaze at that distant sky, 
 
 I seem to dream, and wonder why 
 
 1 feel such call out of the changing blue, 
 
 That bids me, "Awake, be up cind Do." 
 
 What is it that calls, from out the distant maze, 
 That I feel so keenly, as I stand and gaze? 
 I cannot say. Can you? But thro* it all 
 I feel a power within, that answers the call! 
 
i 
 
 DISCOURAGMENT. 
 
 Old man Discouragment, had been strolling round my way! 
 I wondered what the trouble was, for a good many day. 
 The sun didn't shine so brightly, the wind did naught but si^!., 
 I could not see lifes brighter side, no matter how hard I'd try! 
 
 My daily tasks seemed harder, there seemed so much to do! 
 The sky 1 loved so much, seemed to loose it'« dainty hue; 
 The morning dawn, the sunset, the flowers sweet perfume, 
 Even my baby's loving play, in my darkened thot found no 
 room I 
 
 Hurrying along, in this itiental fog, 1 met a friend one day. 
 She gave me no gifts, and I cannot tell all she really did say! 
 She spoke about my children, the opportunity in life they bring. 
 Admired their sturdy rosinoss, and-my heart; began to sing! 
 
 She spoke of anothers need, asked me to drop in a cheery word. 
 And 1 began, in my crowded heart, to look over my meager 
 
 hord, 
 That I might give to one more needy I--lt was then, that I 
 Began to see the pleasant smiles, of all the passers-by! 
 
 We talked of another's good fortune, the bountiful blessings 
 
 to all. 
 The great Opportunity, life brings to each, if we only heed a 
 
 the call. 
 Even the sunshine grew brighter, as 1 talked to my friend that m 
 
 day, T 
 
 For Lo: in the presence of Hope reborn discouragment melted 
 
 away! 
 
 She gave me no gifts, nor changed my state, left me in the 
 
 strife, 
 But she put in my hand mans best weapon, a different outlook 
 
 on life! 
 
She tripped avv^ay, with smilliiig face, little knowing to me sh 
 
 had lent 
 A higher thot, an unselfed love, in which there is no Dis 
 
 couragment! 
 
 SWEET CHARITY 
 
 Sw^eet Charity! Just a comiTJcn garden flower! 
 Yet, so clean and wholesome after all. 
 Like love, the more you give, the more you have, 
 And by its giving, none were ever known to fall! 
 
 This flower, we give the stranger v/ithin our gate, 
 "What is that to thee", what state or creed or name? 
 And by giving, gaii^ love for every hate; 
 Thus proving the principle that from the Master came. 
 
 I know-we chant and sing, of all the heathens need. 
 And yea-we freely give, of our prayers and labor. 
 But how^ can we teach the Christ's loving creed, 
 If we lack Charity, for our next door neighbor? 
 
 THE MIRROR 
 
 We are as a mirror. 
 
 It may fill us with horror, 
 
 To think w^e could give out, 
 
 What another had thought. 
 
 'Tis the only solution, 
 
 I find to this question. 
 
 When v/e reflect things 
 
 That we could not have known. 
 
 We catch the reflection, repeat, and then, 
 
 At last we accept it, and call it our own! 
 
VANITY 
 
 OH the vanity we) feel, in the race we run! 
 The wisdom we gain, the gocd deeds done! 
 The peacock within us, that shortens our view, 
 Would tell us, we, give the world something new^. 
 
 The old prophet hath long told us, in Eccleaiaste, 
 "The things that hath been, is that which shall be, 
 That v/Lich hath been done, is what shall be done, 
 And that theie is no nev/ thi\ig under the sun." 
 
 The power within, that drives us on. is the s»me, 
 That, perhaps, long ago, diove Abel and Cain 
 To deny their God, and fight brother gainst brother. 
 Which we have seen in past wars, and may in another. 
 
 The visions, we have, the great courage, the hope, 
 Are no different, perhaps, except in their scope, 
 From that, which found place, in the heart and mind, 
 Of the Apostles, the prophets, and all of mankind. 
 
 The burdens and grief that like a hand, grip our heart. 
 Seems of each generation, to have been a part. 
 Each must know his Gethssmane, and drain the cup, 
 Of material life, or existence, ere he be lifted up. 
 
 Is the past to you a mystery, the future a blank? 
 
 The present a burden, for which you cannot giive thank? 
 
 Be of goood courage, give not self pity, a home. 
 
 You are but running the race, each generation has run. 
 
 All your hates, loves, joys, sorrows, and grief. 
 Each earth life must know, be it long or brief. 
 What matters, the problems one finds, as one mounts, 
 It is only the way we solve them, that counts. 
 
IMPERFECTION. 
 
 I seem to stand, in vast, vaulted dhambers, 
 That bespeaks of spiritual height. 
 I hear the strains of deep organ music. 
 Like a thousand bird songsters in flight. 
 
 I seem to breath and feel such a Presence, 
 Of Strength and Power, as I hear. 
 My heart seems purged of uncleanness. 
 My soul knows no sense of Fear. 
 
 As I go deeper in this soul voicing. 
 Some power, beckons me on and home; 
 And I follow, in great rejoicing, 
 V/itli no regret for the way I have com* I 
 
 I sense the vastness, the oneness of nature, 
 God, good or the Infinite mind. 
 I press breathlessly on, in rapture. 
 Knowing, somewhere, I the answer will find! 
 
 I am conscious of my own imperfection. 
 As I sense the presence, of the Infinite God. 
 And I find each day, a resurrection. 
 From the material path I have trod. 
 
 In this chamber of spiritual consciousness. 
 
 Thro which nothing unclean, shall pass; 
 
 We feel the need of the garment of righteousness, 
 
 Which from their shoulders, many have cast. 
 
 All the world, it's imperfection is learning. 
 When life is based on this material plane. 
 And the thoughts of all men are turning. 
 Seeking their spiritual selfhood again. 
 
LOVE'S ARMS 
 Oh love, Oh truth, Supreme, Divine, 
 May the tired world, thy mantle find. 
 Amid grief and ills, it savas from harm: 
 We learn to seel^ thy shelter at first alarm. 
 
 In farthest land, as by my side. 
 
 In thine endless arms, thy children hide. 
 
 Ah! we need not see thy face nor form 
 
 When we know the powir of thine endless arm. 
 
 DEATH 
 
 What we call death, is a great white Gate, 
 That we cease to fear, as we cease to hate. 
 It is only death to the earthly man, 
 Tis really rebirh, to the spiritual plane. 
 
 The Gate swings back, at some thought command, 
 And we step forth into the future land. 
 Me thinks, we will find swept on by that tide. 
 Material life, a worn garment, just laid aside! 
 
 And so we take up life in the sphere it began, 
 In though: as I see the beginning cf man. 
 Some lower, some higher, a.s our thot forces go, 
 There, we attain our Ideals, fjimpsed here below^I 
 
 Can we call this Gate, Death, which to us means End? 
 When beyond its portals we but begin, to blend 
 With Infinite mind, the God thought or Love, 
 And attain the highest, for w^hich here w^e strove? 
 
 BIRTH OF A THOUGHT 
 
 You may send a great thought, out into space. 
 Not knowing if it will travel, oi return, you to face. 
 But the greatness of a soul, of which a thot is born, 
 Is shown, by its strength at rebuff, on its return. 
 
THE BUND 
 
 When we reach cut into the space, that subdivides us, 
 And find a thought, that v/e have always known within; 
 Then we have found, the one real law of being, 
 And proved, all thought and life are One with Him. 
 
 We think sometimes, that wa must ppss that curtain 
 Called Death, if we would true vision find,-- 
 But I fear, some who pass thro that condition, 
 Will meet surprise, and :ind themselves, still blind. 
 
 Blind, to that wondrous call, that ncAv surrounds us. 
 That w^e need not pass thro death, to meet and know^. 
 Blind to that answering force., we may find within. 
 That i believe, God gave to use, while here below. 
 
 Death cannot give a man clear vision. 
 
 If his soul's eye is darkened, while below^. 
 
 We must know rebirth, and grow into our heaven, 
 
 If there or here, we are this truth to know. 
 
 Now, if God made all, -and all i.s good, 
 Then Law and Force, w^ere in that plan; 
 And blind are they, who will not use it. 
 Knowing God made all, for the good of man I 
 
 FRIENDS 
 
 Some friends are like a burden. 
 We must carry through life's day. 
 Others, like a cool flowine fountain 
 We pass on thi^ life's high way. 
 We pause, beside it's cooling borders. 
 In the hot and dusty road. 
 Drink hungrily, of it's watem, 
 And, -go cheerfully on w^ith our load! 
 
LIFE S GIFT 
 
 Life offers little real pleasure, to the man with a scowl or 
 frown, 
 
 Who sees the good in none but himself; trouble just follows 
 him around. 
 
 He may have plenty of this worlds goods position, friends 
 and fame! 
 
 There comes a day, all inen learn, there isn't much in posi- 
 tion or name. 
 
 And of what avail is his money, position, or his fame of the 
 day, 
 
 When he stands by one in trouble and grief, not knowing 
 what to say? 
 
 He may possess all the world has to offer, have reached its 
 highest goal, 
 
 But to me, he has missed the gift of the Gods: the under- 
 standing soul! 
 
 The man who is sought for his smiling word, strength, and 
 
 help he gives. 
 
 Has found life's richest abode, for in the hearts of his friends, 
 he live*. 
 
 Wealth, position, power and fame, All, from this life we take 
 
 as toll. 
 
 If but one, of life's gifts I may choose, it will be the under- 
 standing soul. 
 
 ALL 
 
 O Life,, O Dream, fill me full! 
 
 You are the wine, I am the bowl! 
 
 Can I possess it, 
 
 Is my vision too small? 
 
 My heart cryeth out for All, for All! 
 
REAL PLAY 
 
 I had delved and searched and studied, 
 Through Ufe's broad and interesting way. 
 Was over-joyed in my thirst for v/isdom, 
 Till 1 found-I had forgotten how to play! 
 
 I was shocked, and in deep disappointment, 
 I began to see, what now is so plain; 
 Real play, is one of life's best lessons. 
 Which I feel, God meant we should retain. 
 
 I sought Youth, it's irresistible pleasure, 
 It's rapturous interest, and it's joy. 
 And I have learned, at my leisure 
 That play, in our life, is not a toy. 
 
 If v/e are chained, to onq view^ or vision. 
 With no rest nor play in our plan. 
 We lose the force of our best; inspiration, 
 God gave, by hand of the child, to man. 
 
 THE PATH 
 
 I seem to be groping in the darkness. 
 
 When I w^ould see my way, so clear! 
 
 But sometimes the wondrous light 
 
 Of real day, glows all about me: 
 
 And I knov/ no thot of fear! 
 
 I hear such w^onderful music and see 
 
 A glorious Vision, come from out this day- 
 
 I feel that Thou dost lead me; 
 
 For there remains the Path and the music, 
 
 When the Vision, hath faded aw^ay! 
 
EDUCATION. 
 
 True education, is of the sou). 
 
 It cannot be bought with silvei or gold! 
 
 The fountain is free! 
 
 The only price, you may sacrifice. 
 
 The opinicn cf friends and hived one. 
 
 What I say, may appall, but 1 would give it all 
 
 To sit at the feet of Wisdom! 
 
 Can you sea your last friend leave you, 
 
 And stand alone, amid the strife. 
 
 For a principle of truth. 
 
 That ycu have found w^ithin. 
 
 And knov/ reflects a law of life? 
 
 if ycu can do this willingly, with elation, 
 
 Fear not O soul, you have true education! 
 
 SUPPLY 
 
 I feel that somewhere, out in universial space, 
 Lies Mind's supply-for the human race. 
 Conscious, or unconscious, we send out our call, 
 If in tune with the Infinite, we can receive it all. 
 
 Our power to receive, defines the height. 
 The real man has attained, in his spiritual flight. 
 We come into this world, in dense matter clothed. 
 Each feeling, somewhere, we are to spirit betrothed. 
 
 Many have yet to learn, on this material plane, 
 'Tis only thro the spiritual inan, we ever attain. 
 Sometimes, it is only a glimmer, a ray of light, 
 That the material bound, may glimpse in the night. 
 
 But that will suffice! It v^'ill lead him on, 
 Into spiritual heights, whence all supplies come. 
 According to his vision, each one shall receive. 
 Supply surrounds, always was, is ours to perceive. 
 
ONE SOURCE 
 
 Weary and worn, they are coming. 
 To the source of all knov^rlcdge and good. 
 The heart, like a bird, in its homing, 
 Th<j< soul, to it's one source of food. 
 
 Time was, man cared not, I'or the spiritual, 
 He lived, seemingly, by bread alone. 
 They are now losing, creed and ritual. 
 And seeking the source whence they come. 
 
 They are weary of cant and dogma, 
 Of doctrinal creed and cast. 
 And forced by the soul's starvation. 
 To hear the still small Voice, at last! 
 
 It calls you out into the open. 
 Into the one vast domain of soul. 
 Strips you bare of all pretention, 
 And man finds, there is but one Goal! 
 
 1 hat is our Spiritual Selfhood, 
 Co-existant with God, and then. 
 We find the Church Triumphant, 
 Living now, in the hearts of men! 
 
 DAWN 
 
 OH! the night is past, the S'Un is shining! 
 I find my pinions free, to go v^'here I will! 
 In my soul's center, a sweet song is singing, 
 I am linked securely, to the home nest still! 
 
 Who hath said, that woman should know a bondage? 
 Not equal to soar, to the highest thought of man? 
 If that is the picture she brings to life's page 
 She hath failed of her part, in the Infinite Plan. 
 
MY GUIDE 
 
 I seem to be drifting, drifting. 
 Far out on an endless tide: 
 I can see on the waves, no rifting, 
 I knov/ not what life's waters hide. 
 
 Some days, the sun shines so brightly. 
 With clouds of soft white r,iid the blue, 
 My heart sings: my bark goes so lightly, 
 I feel what ever may come, 11) go thro. 
 
 Other days dawn, dark and dreary, 
 Life's path, by the fog seems obscure. 
 I fight blind, in my heart, to see clearly. 
 Feeling, that 1 cannot for ever endure! 
 
 But always, thro the fog, or the sunshine. 
 With the ebbing or drifting of life's tide, 
 Comes the "Voice," and I know that sometime 
 I shall win, if 1 make It, forever, my guide! 
 
 BE SnLL AND KNOW 
 
 Where the answer to life's questions, shall we find, 
 That doth so anguish the heart and torture the mind? 
 From somewhere, a sweet voice, whispers, soft and low, 
 "Oh thou child, just be Still and Wait and Know." 
 
 Be thou still, and listen for the smallest word, 
 Of hope and courage, that from all life is heard: 
 From stars, and thought of man, the globe encircling. 
 Perfumed flowers, and flaming butterfly's gauzy wing. 
 
 Wait, and rush not in, where angels fear to tread, 
 W'here our false views oft tangle life's fine thread: 
 Where in after years, we see God's design so plain: 
 And we only have to smooth, and work them out again! 
 
Know, that behind all that seems to us not good, 
 Where we v/aste our strength to change it if we could :- 
 God's choicest blessings and deepest love doth flow; 
 And it is ours, just to be Still, and Wait and Know! 
 
 THE DOOR OF A V/OMANS SOUL. 
 
 Too long have you waited, outside that open door, 
 By womanly Viriles enticed, as never man was before. 
 By the -are of a Dreamer's paradise! Is it Fate 
 Who can say? 1 only knov/, the door is closed, 
 
 It is too late! 
 
 That door would have led us into a higher bliss! 
 But you craved no greater joy, than passions burning kiss! 
 Long years my soul has enticed you. O is this Fate? 
 1 know^ in the center of my being, the door is closed, 
 
 It is tec late! 
 
 Will you suffer, even as' I, or will you ever really know, 
 
 I have passed you by, only, because you would not go! 
 
 Even now, my heart and hands, w^ould draw you within the 
 
 gate! 
 But you w^iir not hear nor see! And-Oh the door is closed, 
 
 It is too late! 
 
 Never, hand in hand, shall we stroll fields of higher truth. 
 Or reach the enchanted castles, I dreamed of in my youth! 
 But-I am going on! Oh what of you? Is this our Fate? 
 I can not say! I only know tlie door is closed. 
 
 It is too late! 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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