He thought, "My wares are wasted,
The healing in my hands.
None come to me for succour,
For no one understands.
None understands..." he brooded,
"And I the least of all."
He leaned in wary impotence
Against the crannied wall.
And there within a cranny
He spied a single flower.
He thought, "You too are wasted,
You bloom a single hour
And then are gone forever,
a pretty 'also ran',
With nothing gained, with naught achieved,
No good to any man."
"No good to any man," he thought.
The words burned in his brain.
He turned them over on his tongue
Again and yet again.
"No good to any man!" he mused,
With laughter and with tears,
And this a flower must teach me,
And me gone sixty years!"
"As if the will of God is done
By good to human kind,
By that, and by that act alone!
Nay, those who seek will find
In truth there's nothing wasted,
No flower that ever bloomed,
No bud that ere it blossoms
By wanton frost is doomed."
"Henceforth I view the good," he thought,
"As through the eyes of God,
Who sees obscurity and fame
As peas within a pod.
For wisdom lies in knowing,
When all is said and done,
The peddler and his wares, the flower,
And God Himself are one."
Written by W.J.Gabb in "The Mountain Path".
They have yet to discover the secret of life
TO LIVE with their fellowman free from strife
and to share their love with another life
to reach the eye of the hurricane
they search and wander all around
not knowing where peace can e'er be found
they seek a place where love abounds
to reach the eye of the hurricane
still they must discover that sacred peace
that removes them from the wings of the beast
they'd give their all - their lives at least
to reach the eye of the hurricane
Harken - I'll tell you where to begin
to lift yourselves from the dirges of sin
search thine own Self deep within
for there lies the eye of the hurricane