[Poem is on cover page with the following additional text: The Sunday School Journal, September 1923. The cover has an illustration of a rural scene. Bottom third is landscape. A dirt road in the foreground gradually descends into a town having a church on its outskirts. The road is lined with bushes. Fields extend from the bushes. A large oak tree in the foreground frames the scene’s left side and top half.] Transforming Love (1923) [Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.] Love transforms all things. Lone days are touched with light, And trying moments lose their stings, And vexing things come right. Love’s ointment to our eyes applied, We see with vision glorified. Love transforms all things-- Worn faces, hardened hands. To the poor hovel glory clings, For Love’s heart understands. Whatever it beholds is fair; It sees each hidden beauty there. The Window of Dreams (1923) There is a little window. ’Tis called, I think, a screen. Thru it the strangest people And fairest things are seen. Calm valleys, silent woodlands, Tall summits, shining streams, Long roads and busy cities Are in this world of dreams. There weary hearts may travel, Each to its wonted place; And lonely ones may revel In pictured act and face. There to our hidden longings The waiting answer gleams The while our thoughts inhabit This pictured world of dreams. Brotherhood (1924) [Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.] Let black be black and white be white, As they were meant to be; But let the hearts of men be right On every land and sea. Let brown and yellow boast their race, Their blood no taint e’er tell; But let them each possess the grace To wish a neighbor well. Let us forget our foolish strife, And all our groundless hate. We needs must live a common life, And share a common fate. Whatever troubles we must stem, Whate’er our place or name, Beneath the crust that covers them Our hearts are all the same. The Builder v1924 [Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.] The builder of the future Is not the trader keen, The driver of the turbine, Nor any swift machine; Not he who rides in triumph Through the admiring town, Fawning for public praises And seeking for renown. The builder of the future Sits not upon a throne. He toils among the shadows, His struggles oft unknown. He is the one who kindles And keeps the fires of truth, The teacher who is molding The plastic heart of youth. Childhood on the Farm (1924) In many a crowded city Where moves the human tide, Eyes look with eager longing To some old countryside. Hearts that have long been sated With earth recall the charm Of life’s morning splendor In childhood on the farm.