How Terrible The Need For God.

A Lively Understandable Spirit Once Entertained You. It Will Come Again. Be Still. Wait.

Reason? That Dreary Shed, That Hutch For Grubby Schoolboys.

All Finite Things Reveal Infinitude: The Mountain With Its Singular Bright Shade Like The Blue Shine On Freshly Frozen Snow, The After-light Upon Ice-burdened Pines; Odor Of Basswood Upon A Mountain Slope, A Scene Beloved Of Bees; Silence Of Water Above A Sunken Tree: The Pure Serene Of Memory Of One Man,- A Ripple Widening From A Single Stone Winding Around The Waters Of The World.

Light Takes The Tree; But Who Can Tell Us How? The Lowly Worm Climbs Up A Winding Stair; I Wake To Sleep, And Take My Waking Slow. Great Nature Has Another Thing To Do To You And Me, So Take The Lively Air, And, Lovely, Learn By Going Where To Go. This Shaking Keeps Me Steady. I Should Know. What Falls Away Is Always. And Is Near. I Wake To Sleep, And Take My Waking Slow. I Learn By Going Where I Have To Go.

O Lord, May I Never Want To Look Good. O Jesus, May I Always Read It All: Out Loud And The Very Way It Should Be. May I Never Look At The Other Findings Until I Have Come To My Own True Conclusions: May I Care For The Least Of The Young: And Become Aware Of The One Poem That Each May Have Written; May I Be Aware Of What Each Thing Is, Delighted With Form, And Wary Of The False Comparison; May I Never Use The Word "brilliant."