“God is all right—why should we mind standing in the dark for a minute outside his window? Of course we miss the inness, but there is a bliss of its own in waiting. What if the rain be falling, and the wind blowing; what if we stand alone, or, more painful still, have some dear one beside us, sharing our outness; what even if the window be not shining, because of the curtains of good inscrutable drawn across it; let us think to ourselves, or say to our friend, ‘God is; Jesus is not dead; nothing can be going wrong, however it may look so to hearts unfinished in childness.’ Let us say to the Lord, ‘Jesus, art thou loving the Father in there? Then we out here will do his will, patiently waiting till he open the door. We shall not mind the wind or the rain much. Perhaps thou art saying to the Father, ‘Thy little ones need some wind and rain: their buds are hard; the flowers do not come out. I cannot get them made blessed without a little more winter-weather.’ Then perhaps the Father will say, ‘Comfort them, my son Jesus, with the memory of thy patience when thou wast missing me. Comfort them that thou wast sure of me when everything about thee seemed so unlike me, so unlike the place thou hadst left.”

“Life eternal, this lady of thine hath a sore heart, and we cannot help her. Thou art help, O Mighty Love. Speak to her, and let her know thy will, and give her strength to do it, O Father of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

“And if you but listen in the stillness of the night, you shall hear them saying in silence, 'Our God, who art our winged self... we cannot ask thee for aught, for thou knowest our needs before they are born in us; Thou art our needs, and in giving us more of thyself thou givest us all.”

“Mary MagdaleneWith wandering eyes and aimless zeal, She hither, thither, goes;Her speech, her motions, all reveal A mind without repose.She climbs the hills, she haunts the sea, By madness tortured, driven;One hour's forgetfulness would be A gift from very heaven!She slumbers into new distress; The night is worse than day:Exulting in her helplessness; Hell's dogs yet louder bay.The demons blast her to and fro; She has not quiet place,Enough a woman still, to know A haunting dim disgrace.A human touch! a pang of death! And in a low delightThou liest, waiting for new breath, For morning out of night.Thou risest up: the earth is fair, The wind is cool; thou art free!Is it a dream of hell's despair Dissolves in ecstasy?That man did touch thee! Eyes divine Make sunrise in thy soul;Thou seest love in order shine:- His health hath made thee whole!Thou, sharing in the awful doom, Didst help thy Lord to die;Then, weeping o'er his empty tomb, Didst hear him Mary cry.He stands in haste; he cannot stop; Home to his God he fares:'Go tell my brothers I go up To my Father, mine and theirs.'Run, Mary! lift thy heavenly voice; Cry, cry, and heed not how; Make all the new-risen world rejoice- Its first apostle thou!What if old tales of thee have lied, Or truth have told, thou artAll-safe with Him, whate'er betide Dwell'st with Him in God's heart!”

“Thy will be done. I yield up everything.'The life is more than meat' -- then more than health;'The body more than raiment' -- then more than wealth;The hairs I made not, thou art numbering.Thou art my life--I the brook, thou the spring.Because thine eyes are open, I can see;Because thou art thyself, 'tis therefore I am me.”

“Love me, beloved; Hades and DeathShall vanish away like a frosty breath;These hands, that now are at home in thine,Shall clasp thee again, if thou art still mine;And thou shalt be mine, my spirit's bride,In the ceaseless flow of eternity's tide,If the truest love thy heart can knowMeet the truest love that from mine can flow.Pray God, beloved, for thee and me,That our sourls may be wedded eternally.”

“Thou art the Lord who slept upon the pillow,Thou art the Lord who soothed the furious sea,What matters beating wind and tossing billowIf only we are in the boat with Thee?Hold us quiet through the age-long minuteWhile Thou art silent and the wind is shrill :Can the boat sink while Thou, dear Lord, are in it;Can the heart faint that waiteth on Thy will?”