I HEARD THE CLEAR HIGH SWEET VOICE  

I heard the clear high
sweet Voice of
A Lark. It led Me
Valiantly On through
the dark
It told Me to be
Ever brave and
strong
And filled With
God's Victory
And His Song.

It told Me
To entertain
danger
With delight ~
To be
Ever
Vibrant
In Carrying On God's
Fight.
It bade Me to bury
All petty longings
Of Mine
And lift all
Of My Thoughts
To The Divine.



I LOVE THE CROSS


I Love The Cross
for it is part
Of Thee
And Whatever Comes
Of Thee
I know to be
Sublime.
My love for
Thee
Makes dear
The Cross
As My time
As My time
Becomes
Thy time
And My life
Becomes
But Thine.
O, I love The Cross!
I love
The Cross ~



COME WHAT MAY


The
Good
The Bad
The
Beautiful
The
Sad
Is
All of
Life's
Weaving
I love it
All
To stand
And
Or fall
And
Naught
Shall
find
Me
Grieving.





REACH DOWN O LORD

Thy lamb
has gone astray.
The rocks have pierced
It's seeking feet.
It cannot find
Thy Presence
Sweet.
Reach down O Lord,
Thine Arm.
Lift him from
sadness,
Shelter him from
harm,
Grant him
Thy Victory
Over life's
Grief and
Pain.
Call him Thy
Child
Let him
Live Again!

June 1970

(a prayer for her sons)




COME MY SHEEP

Come Come My Sheep
And follow Me
On The Road
To Calvary.
Thy Path May
Seem
Very steep.
Come Come
Follow Me,
My Sheep,
I take The Cup
The bitter Cup
And it turns
Into
Sweet Wine




"THY WILL BE DONE"

I bowed my head
As to
My heart
God said~
"My Will
And
Thy's
Are One".



A diamond is
A piece of
Coal that
has been
Under pressure
For Years.



Oh, to feel
Rested Again!
Relaxed Again -
My body and
Soul both
seem Weary.


June 1970




THE SPARROWS ON THE WIRE
OR SIMPLICITY


God takes
Care
Of The
Swallows
And
The Sparrows
And Keeps
Them
From
A Fall.
Does it Not
Then
Seem simple
For Me
To trust Him
With All?



Written while caring for her grandchildren
in her home for more than a year:



Maybe they thought that I was Not Very
Loving or Very Caring, but
That does Not change the
Immutable fact that it
Was all done
Through love and hope and
Selflessness and caring
For them and for God.
Otherwise I could not
Have scraped through at all.

It was all a Sacrifice of Praise
And Prayer every Morn At His feet
In order to go through the afternoon.

June 2, 1970



A little bit, written at age 17, from Helen's Diary:


Dear Book-

Ever since I was a little girl at Wildwood
Place, I have wanted to compose you. I
believe that even almost from My Cradle Days,
I have longed to tell others of the great
beauties Which I have seen Everywhere in
Life. I must have stood and looked out of the
Windows from My Cradle... and in Wonderment
at the loveliness of the Blue Sky, listened
to the sweet sounds issuing from tremulous
throats of Many Birds. I Must have loved the
Flowers and The Trees Outside - The Pines and
the Violets growing on the hillsides around
Me. I know I must have longed to find Words
With Which to point them All out to them Who
did not see or hear them. It Was Spring When
I entered The World, When the Warmth of the
Sun Was Awakening every plant and flower into
New being. By the Next Year, I perhaps May
have gone Outside - And Wanted breathlessly
to tell of the Amazing things I saw there in
the Great Outdoors. I seemed so Early Aware
of every leaf and tree....




Book Dear,

When things get started happening they don't
know where to stop. These times are pregnant
With Meaning and haste for departure and
Underneath is heartache Which everybody tries
to conceal. We are going to Wyoming, " but
Where the hand clasps a little stronger, out
where the smile lasts a little longer" in
quest of health which it seems We are liable
to lose if We stay here, but We are leaving
All We have behind Us, We May go just for a
the Winter but probably it will be forever,
because after all Our happiness lies Where
health does. I try to forget everything, but
I love it all so! It's just a part of Me and
the roots are so deep here among the scenes
of my childhood, Where every little thing
Means something, Where My ancestors have
lived before Me. There's the long avenue of
splendid thriving Walnuts which my
Grandfather Planted When a boy, and Which We
have Managed to keep out of the hands of the
road, electric light & telephone Men for all
these Years. There are the pines that I love
and Whose Whisperings I've long tried to
understand when the light breezes sifted thru
them, and Whose Moanings of Winter Nights,
When the girls stayed all Night, I alone did
not fear. There's the little brown brook
chasing thru the grounds ever and anon, the
friendly little brook Which babbles and
croons lullabies. I could keep on and on
forever and Never tell all the things that
Make the heart ache With the fear that they
Will never be Mine again, but I don't Want to
let it ache. I can't, and be happy, and I've
got to be happy no Matter What comes. I Would
if it Weren't for My darling dad Who loved it
so, but it seems as if I am leaving him, in a
sense, and All the old dear associations with
him, and that is What hurts. I loved him so
much, little reckless dare-devil kid that I
was and we'd do anything for each other. They
thought that he would spoil me but he knew
What he was doing and I'm going to make
myself the fine, strong, sweet Woman he
Wanted Me to be, Whatever Comes. So I'm going
to leave it all With a smile and Not a tear,
not one, tho it kills me. With head up I am
going to enter this New life, and try to like
it as he Would Want Me to. and Make it easier
for the others, and jolly them When they are
home-sick. lonesome, blue and it seems as if
they cannot endure the desolateness any
longer. We may go to Calif. later, but
always, I fear, it will be the West, and so
We've got to like it whether We Want to or
not! We Will probably learn to love the
prairies, and seeing a lone coyote outlined
on the hill-side crying for the Moon; and
things like that; and anyway We Will live in
cities after We get settled, but Now it's a
ranch and I'm going to like it; because I
Must! Only, When I come back to visit, if I
find that some foreign hand has thoughtlessly
cut down the tree which my father planted
outside My Window in this dear old Mansion
When he Was little, a tall straight pine Now
stretching toward heavens, it Won't be easy
for me. I don't think I Need to say Why.
Foster Wrote Me a Wonderful letter today,
after I'd told him about things. He's too
good to be true. He Was philosophical but at
the last he said "but I am sorry for my
little girl". That Was enough. I'm crazy to
see Yellowstone.


 

There is a mailing list of Helen's newly published poems.

It consists poems and prose as they are just transcribed from her notebooks.

If you want to be on this mailing list, please
send mailto:sailing@victory-cruises.com
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THIS PAGE WAS LAST UPDATED 23 July 2001

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