Poems from The Gifts of God

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This poem was published as a single work, but Helen actually considered it to be two poems. She asked to draw a line to divide what she considered to be the two poems -- one with a Christmas/New Year's theme and one with an Easter theme.

The resurrection and the life

You think Him dead Who rose again for you,
And so you cannot see the shining light
In which you are delivered. Come, My child,
And judge Him not. He is not dead. So bright
His radiance that nothing still remains
Obscured from Heaven in the doubt of night.

So still the birth you did not understand
Who came to you. Before your frightened eyes
The Lord of light and life appears to fail
His promises of Heaven's grace, and dies
Forever on a cross. Nor can you see
The Child of hope Who in a manger lies.

The wise are silent. Stand you by a while
And let the wise men show you what they see
That came of you from stillness and from peace
Which rest in you, but speak to them of Me.
And then be comforted. The living Lord
Has come again where He has willed to be.

Wait now for morning. In the silence hear
The winged whispering that hails the Son
In quiet certainty and lovely calm
Whom death released to life. He is the One
For Whom you wait. Then look again on Him,
And join His benediction, "It is done."

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He held you in His arms as He arose,
And death was overcome. Yet on the hill
Of dying you had fixed your eyes, it seemed
As if forever. Now you wait until
You look beyond the end you thought you saw,
And see the Child Who is your first-born still.

Think of this Child Who comes again. He is
The Son Who seemed to die. He offers you
The motherhood the shadow of a cross
Appeared to take away. Yet round it grew
The lilies of rebirth. Accept again
The deathless One, the holy Son you knew.

See not an ending where beginning is,
Nor dark in sunlight. You who came to mourn,
Remember now the ancient song of birth,
And lay aside the signs of grieving worn
By childless mothers. Lift your heart to Him,
For once again to you a Child is born.

By Helen Schucman, January 1, 1978

Good friday

There is no death. But there is quietness
Beyond the reaches of the world; a peace
Which only life can give. It is the life
That is the gift of God. All conflicts cease
Within this life. It beats in harmony
With all creation, beyond any sound
The world can hear. It sings a different song,
And where it reaches, there is holy ground.

There is no death. Whom God created whole
Is whole forever. Who can crucify
Eternal life? And who can bring to dust
Whom God has willed immortal? Can he die
Who rises past the universe, to rest
At one with his Creator? So are we
Ensured to life. There is no death because
God's Son belongs to Immortality.

This is a day of joy. Today the world
Lays down its dreams beside a cross that was
Itself a dream. Behold the dream of death
And waken, seeing that it had no cause,
And so did not exist. What never was
Can not be now. Today we pass it by,
For this the purpose of this day should be:
What is made whole is whole, and cannot die.

Do not confuse the cross with sacrifice,
Nor death with life. The Will of God is one,
And knows no differences nor opposites.
In love it has created but one Son,
In whom the whole creation still remains.
How can his name be changed who bears the Name
His Father called as His? He does not change,
Because his will forever is the same.

What does he yearn for but his Father's house?
Had he a different will his death might be
Reality. But when he reconciled
What never had an opposite, then he
Could never die. His life is not his own,
Being of God. This day arise and come
With Me. For there is life. It is God's Will.
Today shall you be with Me in our home.

By Helen Schucman, March 20, 1978

The Gifts of Christmas

Christ passes no one by. By this you know
He is God’s Son. You recognize His touch
In universal gentleness. His Love
Extends to everyone. His eyes behold
The Love of God in everything He sees.
No words but those His Father’s Voice dictates
Can reach His ears. His hands forever hold
His brothers’, and His arms remain outstretched
In holy welcome. Would you look on Him,
And hear Him calling you this Christmas day?

Behold, He offers you His eyes to see,
His ears to listen to His Father’s Voice,
His hands to hold His brothers’, and His arms
To reach to Him as He would reach to you.
You are as like to Him as He to God,
And you to God because you are like Him.
All that He offers you is but your own.
Accept His gifts to you this Christmas day,
That you who are as God created you,
May come to recognize the Christ in you.

The Hope of Christmas

Christ is not born but neither does He die,
And yet He is reborn in everyone.
The rising and the birth are one in Him,
For it is in the advent of God’s Son
The light of resurrection is begun.

Heaven needs no nativity. And yet
The Son of Heaven needs the world to be
His birthplace, for the world is overcome
Because a Child is born. And it is He
Who brings God’s promise of eternity.

It is His birth that ends the dream of death,
For in Him death is brought to life. Behold
The earth made new and shining in the hope
Of love and pardon. Now God’s Arms enfold
The hearts that shivered in the winter’s cold.

The Holiness of Christmas

Christmas is holy only if you come
In silence to the manger, to behold
Your holiness made visible to you.

Your gifts are but your open hands, made clean
Of grasping. Nothing else you lay before
The newly-born except your doubts and fears,
Your pale illusions and your sickly pride,
Your hidden venom and your little love,
Your meager treasures and unfaithfulness
To all the gifts that God has given you.

Here at the altar lay all this aside
To let the door to Heaven open wide
And hear the angels sing of peace on earth,
For Christmas is the time of your rebirth.

Nativity

There was an instant long ago when God
Proclaimed His Word, and all the world was still
To hear and answer. Yet it could not hear
Nor answer. When the holy Christ was born

He came alone, with but His Father’s Word
To hear and answer Him. And yet His Voice
Remains to bless the world along with me
Who would remember that His Word is mine.

The end of time

Forget not time was made for you, not you
For time. The withered, dying and the dead
Are but the thoughts of those who do not see
That time is powerless, unless they give
Their own consent to change. The Son of God
Stands changelessly within the Unchangingness,
Past the ephemeral, not new nor old,
Beyond all opposites, where nothing cases
A Shadow or a doubt, for light alone
Surrounds him. Time was given him to show
Him how to learn and see, and then to know.

The shining instant

Cherish this instant. All of time is set
Within its boundaries. The past but let
To this appointed time. The future yet
Remains unborn, and like a word unsaid

Is soundless. Seek instead the endless place
Of timelessness. In unencumbered space
Open your arms to let all conflict cease,
And call to quiet those in every place

Who wait for freedom. You would not betray
Their agony and patience, when their cries
Fade into silence here. For Christ will stay
Until the faint and final echo dies

And stillness claims the world. And then He takes
It in His hand and waits an instant more,
And time is over. Even now He makes
Your way to Him. This instant is the door

To that in which the world will disappear
In Him, as He will vanish into One
Who will remain forever. In this clear
And shining instant all of time is done.

The Little Things of God

Gardens are filled with little things of God
That sing and twitter in a tiny voice,
And flash from blade to blade across the grass.
They shine with morning and they glow at night,
And through the daylight wind and hum and turn,
Wheeling among the flowers as they live
Their little lives, and then they disappear.
Yet when they enter in eternity,
They will be part of God along with me.

The Resting Place

My arms are open, Come, my Lord, to me
And rest upon my heart. It beats for you
And sings in joyous welcome. What am I
Except the resting place and your repose?

Your rest is mine. Without you I am lost
In senseless wandering that have no end,
No goal, no meaning, on a road that goes
In twisted byways down to nothingness.

Come now, my Love, and save me from despair,
The Way, the Truth, the Life are with me then.
The journey is forgotten in the joy
Of endless quiet and your kiss of peace.

The Comforter

Step back, My child, and let Him lead the way
Whom I have sent to you. He holds your hand
And speaks to you of Me. His memory
Holds in your mind My Name. His peace surrounds
My child with all the love a Father feels
For what He cherishes above all else
In earth and Heaven. Whom I sent to you
Has shared My Heart and brings My Word with Him
To solace and to comfort all the world
That has forgot My Name. Homeless are they
Who would abide alone, apart from Me.

Yet would I call them home. My Voice I send
To sing in soundless places. Hear from Me
The song a Father sings to you, His child;
A melody from far beyond the world,
Step back and listen, for He comes to bless
And tell you that you are not comfortless.

The Song of Peace

The melody of peace is always there.
It neither dies nor wavers. It remains
A calm, soft sound, more still than silence, and
An ageless recollection in the minds
That God created. Ceaselessly it sings
To all the world, that it remember Him.

The sounds of earth are quieted before
This ancient melody, which speaks of love
In limitless dimensions. Where is fear,
When God has guaranteed that He is there?