as sweet as hay; When the life-impulse of the wonderful untamed earth Has reached its fulness and height, Is broad and steady and wide As sweeps into splendid bays the flowing tide; When God might look on the land, When God might look on the sea, And say: "For ever be Perfect, completed, achieved, As now at this moment you stand." Neither in June shall we stay the eternal flow Nor grasp the present with pitiful, mortal hand, For sliding past like water the June hours go. 

 

 

 "LOVE IS THE ULTIMATE MEASURE OF THE SOUL" 

 Love is the ultimate measure of the soul; Love is the biting acid, the sure test To strip the naked gold, discard the rest Of earthly stuffs; Love is the one thing whole In a world of broken parts, for Love is all. 

 Love is creation; Love is the low call Of deep to deep; Love is the force that shapes The thing that it believes, and while there gapes The black earth-pit, where the poor flesh must fall, Love builds on hope, and buds eternal life. 

 Love is a victory unsoiled by strife; Who is there that shall adequately name All that Love is, this thing as swift as flame And vast as heaven, yet in every life Tamed to the narrow needs of little men? 

 From humble love, that makes the partridge hen Brave for her chickens, to the Love that shakes The world from Calvary, all love partakes Of immortality; one cannot pen Divinity in words; Love is divine. 

 The very essence of God does Love enshrine; For let the heart, however sorely tried, Open itself to loving, and the wide Earth is a home; love-lacking must decline Where black fears crowd across the starless dark. 

 For Love is light; the faith that will embark, Unpiloted, upon uncharted seas Is Love alone; the fiery leap to seize The splendid distant aim, the invisible mark, What else but Love's? Love is the thing that stands Unchanged, on changing tides and shifting sands. 

 

 

 NOVEMBER 8 

 THE LITTLE SUMMER OF ALL SAINTS 

 Prev. P 19/29 next