“Master of sweet and loving lore,
Give us the open mind
To know religion means no more,
No less, than being kind.
Give us the comprehensive sight
That sees another’s need;
And let our aim to set things right
Prove God inspired our creed.
Give us the soul to know our kin
That dwell in flock and herd,
The voice to fight man’s shameful sin
Against the beast and bird.
Give us a heart with love so fraught
For all created things,
That even our unspoken thought
Bears healing on its wings.
Give us religion that will cope
With life’s colossal woes,
And turn a radiant face of hope
On troops of pigmy foes.
Give us the mastery of our fate
In thoughts so warm and white,
They stamp upon the brows of hate
Love’s glorious seal of light.
Give us the strong, courageous faith
That makes of pain a friend,
And calls the secret word of death
‘Beginning,’ and not ‘end.”
Poems of Progress and New Thought Pastels
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Henry Wardworth Longfellow
Lo! in the painted oriel of the West,
Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines,
Like a fair lady at her casement, shines
The evening star, the star of love and rest!
And then anon she doth herself divest
Of all her radiant garments, and reclines
Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines,
With slumber and soft dreams of love oppressed.
O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus!
My morning and my evening star of love!
My best and gentlest lady! even thus,
As that fair planet in the sky above,
Dost thou retire unto thy rest at night,
And from thy darkened window fades the light.
“The ribs and terrors in the whale,
Arched over me a dismal gloom,
While all God’s sun-lit waves rolled by,
And lift me deepening down to doom.
“I saw the opening maw of hell,
With endless pains and sorrows there;
Which none but they that feel can tell—
Oh, I was plunging to despair.
“In black distress, I called my God,
When I could scarce believe him mine,
He bowed his ear to my complaints—
No more the whale did me confine.
“With speed he flew to my relief,
As on a radiant dolphin borne;
Awful, yet bright, as lightning shone
The face of my Deliverer God.
“My song for ever shall record
That terrible, that joyful hour;
I give the glory to my God,
His all the mercy and the power.”
“All things and all people … call on us with small or loud voices. They want us to listen. They want us to understand their intrinsic claims, their justice of being. We can give it to them only through the love that listens.” Paul Tillich
What if each of us were able to listen to another without interruption?
What if each of us were able to understand each another without letting our innate biases color our understanding?
What if each of us felt accepted unconditionally as we are at the present moment?
I speak for myself. I’d like that kind of world. How about you?