Aug. 25, 1999
Now in the calm and silent fields of mind Joy is harvested by thankful hands And the seasons of our aspirations find The imprint and the seal of Mother's touch;
By the still lake reflecting on life's events As the years of our seeking pass slowly in pensive mood, A smile wells up from deep within the soul To blossom on a branch of gratitude.
So many hours spent at the treadle of time Weaving the wondrous patterns of the world, While sole within the godhead's paradigm Reminds of the quick and deepening need.
Descending bliss is close, we hear the rush Of aureate wings pressing towards our earth And in our hearts a song of rapture sings Of godhead's crown and superhuman birth.
Poems Undated (1727)
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