Sonnets Helen Frazee-Bower
HOUSE OF MY PILGRIMAGE
“T h y statutes have been m y songs in the house of m y pilgrimage." — Ps. 119:54
House of my Pilgrimage, so tossed and tom, So beat upon by all the storms of life, Beyond your battered threshold, warped and worn, Resound the echoes of remembered strife. But, here within, is quietness and peace, With twilight creeping into every nook, And gentle whisperings that will not cease Of music coming from the old, old Book. So long Thy statutes, Lord, have been my songs Within this house now crumbling to decay, That little lingers of the past that throngs Except their music; all else fades away And comes no more. Now nothing can be heard — Only Thy Word, dear Lord, Thy blessed Word.
THE LIVING WORD
THE BOOK
God spoke a Word that brought Him down to men And lifted men to Him. It was pure grace: We were so separated by our sinning. Then God spoke a Word—and men beheld His face. The Word God spoke was Jesus Christ, the one Who came to give His life on Calvary. Not just a perfect man, but God’s own Son; He died for sin—it was for you, for me. God will not speak again—there is no word, Nor further need for language to convey What has been told already in the Lord, Who is, alone, the Life, the Truth, the Way. . Oh, do not hesitate, with deafened ear, Nor turn aside—there is no more to hear. f T'l he good writer is the person with full-orbed experiences and a sensitive heart and mind. The poems on these pages were written by just such a writer. She is Helen Frazee-Bower, one of America’s finest writers of religious verse. Mrs. Frazee-Bower was bom in California. She is the daughter of a landscape painter and writer, and the wife of a musician. Although most at home in an artistic environment, she has had a rich and full life in other areas as well, being the mother of five grown children, a public schoolteacher, speaker and Bible teacher. The many activities have made her mind deeper, her wit keener, her faith luminous—it is this
The books men write are but a fragrance blown From transient blossoms crushed by human hands; But, high above them, splendid and alone, Staunch as a tree, there is a Book that stands Unmoved by storms, unchallenged by decay: The winds of criticism would profane Its sacred pages, but the Truth, the Way, The Life are in it—and they beat in vain. Oh, traveler from this to yonder world, Pause in the shade of God’s magnificent, Eternal Word—that tree whose roots are curled About our human need: When strength is spent, Stretch out beneath some great, far-reaching limb Of promise, and find rest and peace in Him. devotion to all that is good in life that one immediate ly sees in her writings. The deeply spiritual nature of her poems and stories comes from faith in the risen Lord. To her He is not only Saviour but also a living Person, interested in one’s daily walk—an “ever present help in time of trouble.” Her writing is permeated with the great fundamental Bible truths. The author’s work has appeared in many religious publications, in most of the better poetry magazines, and in Harper’s, Saturday Evening Post, Ladies’ Home Journal, Good Housekeeping and other periodicals. Her poems have been included in more than 20 an thologies in this country and England, including
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