Put up your guns, ye nations, and lay your swords away. ’Twas yours to live beholding the world’s redemption day. Let now the earth, forgetting its reign of strife and blood, Welcome the dawning era--the day of brotherhood. [Poem is on cover page with the following additional text: The Sunday School Journal, March 1919, Volume Fifty-One, Number Three. The poem overlays an illustration of the Statue of Liberty.] The New Year (1919) [Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.] Each New Year day Time cuts the thread That binds us to the vanished past. Its tears, and cares, and pangs are fled. Its woes are gone, its troubles dead, And we are free at last. It is the road ahead we scan Whene’er the year is new. Again we gird our hearts, and plan For better days. We hope again In things secure and true. Thanks for the hand that steals away The cares of moments sped. Thanks for the years we leave today, But more for all that seems to say: “’Tis better on ahead.” God’s Garden (1920) There blooms a lovely garden Beneath the smile of God, Where fairest flow’rs are nodding Above the smoothest sod. From it has come the harvest Of everlasting worth, Enriching yonder heaven, As well as hither earth. Kind friendships are the breezes That come with soothing breath; Love is the life stream, springing Where else had been but death; A teacher is its gard’ner; Its sunlight is the truth; And in its soil doth blossom The flower of lovely youth. [Poem is framed by illustrated flowers. Outside the frame--from middle-left to middle-top--is an illustration of two young, smiling girls standing in the midst of flowers. The older girl is cradling several picked flowers in one arm while her other are is extended and selecting another.] The Open Soul (1920) There is a way That leads to some rich joy in every day, To where through immemorial ages gone Calm Peace has sat upon her regal throne. There is a road to joy’s supremest goal, But pilgrims say It is discerned but by the open soul. There is a song That has the power to scatter courage strong Through all the moments of the busy day, And blunt the thorns along the weary way. Its music always lessens sorrow’s toll, Though suffered long. It is no secret to the open soul. There is a gleam That lights with loveliness the hill and stream, Blesses the days with hours supremely rare, And threads a line of gladness through each care. Before it all the shadows swiftly roll From fettered beam. It breaks like morning on the open soul. The Outcome (1920)