The flowers are the thoughts of God. They bloom in sun and shadow, By traveled path, or virgin sod, In every lovely meadow; In dooryards where the children play, And hours are swiftly winging; And Love comes at the close of day, Its selfless tribute bringing. Silent they grow, each in its place, With cheer for all who love them, Breathing their perfume in the face Of all who bend above them. They blossom where the weary plod Their ways of toil and duty. The flowers are the thoughts of God; His love speaks in their beauty. A Grace for Meals (1926) [Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.] Thou who doest hold all things at Thy command The blessing of the sunshine and the rain, Thou never hast withheld Thy kindly hand From giving us the fruitage of the plain. Long hast Thou sheltered us from every storm. Long hast Thou seen that we were duly fed. Long hast Thou kept our fireside bright and warm. And so we thank Thee for our daily bread. As we assemble at our simple board In all the gladness that is ours today, We thank Thee for Thy presence with us, Lord, And ask that Thou wilt be our guest alway. May all Thy children, wheresoe’er they be, Share in Thy bounty, by Thy hand be led, And lift their hearts from every land and sea, With us, to thank Thee for their daily bread. The Grey Host (1926) From the silent Southern river, From the reaching Western plain, From the quaint New England hillside Comes a host to march again. From Manila and El Caney, From the depths of many a sea, From the flow’ring fields of Flanders, Come the sons of Liberty. Who are these that tread the silence? They are our departed brave, Who, despite their years of dreaming, Still are troubled in the grave. See, they bear a flaming banner, These who died for us of yore. This the message that it flashes: “Brothers, dream of war no more.” Heart Gates (1926) There is a wondrous country, A city built foursquare. And each and all are welcome To find a dwelling there. The nations gather homeward, Peoples from far and wide. Directions do not matter With gates on every side. And is not this the mission That God to us has given-- To make the world we live in Seem more and more like heaven? Shall we not seek the friendship Of peoples far and wide, And let the heart’s fair city Have gates on every side? The High Tension Line (1926) It has no boast to make at all. Patient it holds unto its task Summer and Winter, Spring and Fall, With naught to tell and naught to ask. Humble and steady, sure and true, Seeking no change of work or place, It has its given work to do, And does it with a changeless grace. In its deep channel underground It serves its purpose day by day, Without a stir, without a sound, Though days be fair, though days be gray.