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Title: New Thought Pastels
Author: Wilcox, Ella Wheeler
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "New Thought Pastels" ***

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Transcribed from the 1906 Elizabeth Towne edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org



                           NEW THOUGHT PASTELS


                                   —BY—

                           ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

                                * * * * *

                               Published by

                             ELIZABETH TOWNE
                              HOLYOKE, MASS.

                                * * * * *

                              Copyright 1906

                           ELLA WHEELER WILCOX



INDEX.

A Dialogue                                    9
The Weed                                     11
Strength                                     12
Affirm                                       13
The Chosen                                   14
The Nameless                                 16
The Word                                     17
Assistance                                   19
Credulity                                    20
Consciousness                                21
The Structure                                22
Our Souls                                    23
The Law                                      24
Knowledge                                    25
Give                                         27
Perfection                                   29
Fear                                         30
The Way                                      31
Understood                                   32
His Mansion                                  33
Effect                                       34
Three Things                                 35
Obstacles                                    36
Prayer                                       37
Climbing                                     38
“There Is No Death, There Are No Dead”       39
Realization                                  41

  [Picture: Photograph of Ella Wheeler Wilcox, underneath which she has
             written “Send forth thy thought—Create—Create!”]



A Dialogue.


                                  _Mortal_.

   THE world is full of selfishness and greed.
   Lord, I would lave its sin.

                                  _Spirit_.

   Yea, mortal, earth of thy good help has need.
   Go cleanse _thyself_ within.

                                  _Mortal_.

   Mine ear is hurt by harsh and evil speech.
   I would reform men’s ways.

                                  _Spirit_.

   There is but one convincing way to teach.
   Speak _thou_ but words of praise.

                                  _Mortal_.

   On every hand is wretchedness and grief,
   Despondency and fear.
   Lord, I would give my fellow men relief.

                                  _Spirit_.

   Be, then, all hope, all cheer.

                                  _Mortal_.

   Lord, I look outward and grow sick at heart,
   Such need of change I see.

                                  _Spirit_.

   Mortal, look _in_.  Do thy allotted part,
   And leave the rest to ME.



The Weed.


   A WEED is but an unloved flower!
      Go dig, and prune, and guide, and wait,
      Until it learns its high estate,
   And glorifies some bower.
      A weed is but an unloved flower!

   All sin is virtue unevolved,
      Release the angel from the clod—
      Go love thy brother up to God.
   Behold each problem solved.
      All sin is virtue unevolved.



Strength.


   WHO is the strong?  Not he who puts to test
   His sinews with the strong and proves the best;
   But he who dwells where weaklings congregate,
   And never lets his splendid strength abate.

   Who is the good?  Not he who walks each day
   With moral men along the high, clean way;
   But he who jostles gilded sin and shame,
   Yet will not sell his honor or his name.

   Who is the wise?  Not he who from the start
   With Wisdom’s followers has taken part;
   But he who looks in Folly’s tempting eyes,
   And turns away, perceiving her disguise.

   Who is serene?  Not he who flees his kind,
   Some mountain fastness, or some cave to find;
   But he who in the city’s noisiest scene,
   Keeps calm within—he only is serene.



Affirm.


   BODY and mind, and spirit, all combine
   To make the Creature, human and divine.

   Of this great trinity no part deny.
   Affirm, affirm, the Great Eternal I.

   Affirm the body, beautiful and whole,
   The earth-expression of immortal soul.

   Affirm the mind, the messenger of the hour,
   To speed between thee and the source of power.

   Affirm the spirit, the Eternal I—
   Of this great trinity no part deny.



The Chosen.


   THEY stood before the Angel at the gate;
      The Angel asked: “Why should you enter in?”
   One said: “On earth my place was high and great;”
      And one: “I warned my fellow-men from sin;”
   Another: “I was teacher of the faith;
   I scorned my life and lived in love with death.”

   And one stood silent.  “Speak!” the Angel said;
      “What earthly deed has sent you here today?”
   “Alas!  I did but follow where they led,”
      He answered sadly: “I had lost my way—
   So new the country, and so strange my flight;
   I only sought for guidance and for light.”

   “You have no passport?”  “None,” the answer came.
      “I loved the earth, tho’ lowly was my lot.
   I strove to keep my record free from blame,
      And make a heaven about my humble spot.
   A narrow life; I see it now, too late;
   So, Angel, drive me from the heavenly gate.”

   The Angel swung the portal wide and free,
      And took the sorrowing stranger by the hand.
   “Nay, you alone,” he said, “shall come with me,
      Of all this waiting and insistent band.
   Of what God gave, you built your paradise;
   Behold your mansion waiting in the skies.”



The Nameless.


   UNNUMBERED gods may unremembered die;
   A thousand creeds may perish and pass by;
   Yet do I lift mine eyes to ONE on high.

   Unnamed be HE from whom creation came;
   There is no word whereby to speak His name
   But petty men have mouthed it into shame.

   I lift mine eyes, and with a river’s force
   My love’s full tide goes sweeping on its course
   To that supreme and all embracing Source.

   Then back through all those thirsting channels roll
   The mighty billows of the Over Soul.
   And I am He, the portion and the Whole.

   As little streams before the flood tide flee,
   As rivers vanish to become the sea,
   The I exists no more, for I AM HE.



The Word.


   OH, a word is a gem, or a stone, or a song,
      Or a flame, or a two-edged sword;
   Or a rose in bloom, or a sweet perfume,
      Or a drop of gall, is a word.

   You may choose your word like a connoisseur,
      And polish it up with art,
   But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays,
      Is the word that comes from the heart.

   You may work on your word a thousand weeks,
      But it will not glow like one
   That all unsought, leaps forth white hot,
      When the fountains of feeling run.

   You may hammer away on the anvil of thought,
      And fashion your word with care,
   But unless you are stirred to the depths, that word
      Shall die on the empty air.

   For the word that comes from the brain alone,
      Alone to the brain will speed;
   But the word that sways, and stirs, and stays,
      Oh! that is the word men heed.



Assistance.


   LEAN on no mortal, Love, and serve;
   (For service is love’s complement),
   But it was never God’s intent,
   Your spirit from its path should swerve,
   To gain another’s point of view.
   As well might Jupiter, or Mars
   Go seeking help from other stars,
   Instead of sweeping ON, as you.
   Look to the Great Eternal Cause
   And not to any man, for light.
   Look in; and learn the wrong, and right,
   From your own soul’s unwritten laws.
   And when you question, or demur,
   Let Love be your Interpreter.



“Credulity.”


   IF fallacies, come knocking at my door,
   I’d rather feed, and shelter full a score,
   Than hide behind the black portcullis, doubt,
   And run the risk of barring one Truth out.

   And if pretention for a time deceive,
   And prove me one too ready to believe,
   Far less my shame, than if by stubborn act,
   I brand as lie, some great colossal Fact.

   On my soul’s door, the latch-string hangs outside;
   Within, the lighted candle.  Let me guide
   Some errant follies, on their wandering way,
   Rather, than Wisdom give no welcoming ray.



Consciousness.


   GOD, what a glory, is this consciousness,
   Of life on life, that comes to those who seek!
   Nor would I, if I might, to others speak,
   The fullness of that knowledge.  It can bless,
   Only the eager souls, that willing, press
   Along the mountain passes, to the peak.
   Not to the dull, the doubting, or the weak,
   Will Truth explain, or Mystery confess.

   Not to the curious or impatient soul
   That in the start, demands the end be shown,
   And at each step, stops waiting for a sign;
   But to the tireless toiler toward the goal,
   Shall the great miracles of God be known
   And life revealed, immortal and divine.



The Structure.


   UPON the wreckage of thy yesterday
   Design the structure of tomorrow.  Lay
   Strong corner stones of purpose, and prepare
   Great blocks of wisdom, cut from past despair.
   Shape mighty pillars of resolve, to set
   Deep in the tear-wet mortar of regret.
   Work on with patience.  Though thy toil be slow,
   Yet day by day the edifice shall grow.
   Believe in God—in thine own self believe.
   All that thou hast desired thou shalt achieve.



Our Souls.


   OUR souls should be vessels receiving
   The waters of love for relieving
            The sorrows of men.

   For here lies the pleasure of living:
   In taking God’s bounties, and giving
            The gifts back again.



The Law.


   WHEN the great universe was wrought
   To might and majesty from naught,
   The all creative force was—
                                    _Thought_.

   That force is thine.  Though desolate
   The way may seem, command thy fate.
   Send forth thy thought—
                                    Create—_Create_!



Knowledge.


   WOULD you believe in Presences Unseen—
      In life beyond this earthly life?  BE STILL:
   Be stiller yet; and listen.  Set the screen
      Of silence at the portal of your will.
   Relax, and let the world go by unheard.
   And seal your lips with some all-sacred word.

   Breathe “God,” in any tongue—it means the same;
      LOVE ABSOLUTE: Think, feel, absorb the thought;
   Shut out all else; until a subtle flame
      (A spark from God’s creative center caught)
   Shall permeate your being, and shall glow,
   Increasing in its splendor, till, YOU KNOW.

   Not in a moment, or an hour, or day
      The knowledge comes; the power is far too great,
   To win in any desultory way.
      No soul is worthy till it learns to wait.
   Day after day be patient, then, oh, soul;
   Month after month—till, lo! the goal! the goal!



Give


   GIVE, and thou shalt receive.  Give thoughts of cheer,
      Of courage and success, to friend and stranger.
   And from a thousand sources, far and near,
      Strength will be sent thee in thy hour of danger.

   Give words of comfort, of defense, and hope,
      To mortals crushed by sorrow and by error.
   And though thy feet through shadowy paths may grope,
      Thou shalt not walk in loneliness or terror.

   Give of thy gold, though small thy portion be.
      Gold rusts and shrivels in the hand that keeps it.
   It grows in one that opens wide and free.
      Who sows his harvest is the one who reaps it.

   Give of thy love, nor wait to know the worth
      Of what thou lovest; and ask no returning.
   And wheresoe’er thy pathway leads on earth,
      There thou shalt find the lamp of love-light burning.



Perfection.


   THE leaf that ripens only in the sun
   Is dull and shriveled ere its race is run.
   The leaf that makes a carnival of death
   Must tremble first before the north wind’s breath.

   The life that neither grief nor burden knows
   Is dwarfed in sympathy before its close.
   The life that grows majestic with the years
   Must taste the bitter tonic found in tears.



Fear.


   FEAR is the twin of Faith’s sworn foe, Distrust.
   If one breaks in your heart the other must.

   Fear is the open enemy of Good.
   It means the God in man misunderstood.

   Who walks with Fear adown life’s road will meet
   His boon companions, Failure and Defeat.

   But look the bully boldly in the eyes,
   With mien undaunted, and he turns and flies.



The Way.


   BETWEEN the finite and the infinite
   The missing link of Love has left a void.
   Supply the link, and earth with Heaven will join
   In one continued chain of endless life.

   Hell is wherever Love is not, and Heaven
   Is Love’s location.  No dogmatic creed,
   No austere faith based on ignoble fear
   Can lead thee into realms of joy and peace.
   Unless the humblest creatures on the earth
   Are bettered by thy loving sympathy
   Think not to find a Paradise beyond.

   There is no sudden entrance into Heaven.
   Slow is the ascent by the path of Love.



Understood.


   I VALUE more than I despise
      My tendency to sin,
   Because it helps me sympathize
      With all my tempted kin.

   He who has nothing in his soul
      That links him to the sod,
   Knows not that joy of self-control
      Which lifts him up to God.

   And I am glad my heart can say,
      When others trip and fall
   (Although I safely passed that way),
      “I understand it all.”



His Mansion.


   THERE was a thought he hid from all men’s eyes,
   And by his prudent life and deeds of worth
   He left a goodly record upon earth
   As one both pure and wise.

   But when he reached a dark unsightly door
   Beyond the grave, there stood his secret thought.
   It was the mansion he had built and brought
   To dwell in, on that shore.



Effect.


   AN unkind tale was whispered in his ear.
      He paused to hear.
   His thoughts were food that helped a falsehood thrive,
      And keep alive.

   Years dawned and died.  One day by venom’s tongue
      His name was stung.
   He cried aloud, nor dreamed the lie was spawn
      Of thoughts long gone.

   Each mental wave we send out from the mind,
      Or base, or kind,
   Completes its circuit, then with added force
      Seeks its own source.



Three Things.


   KNOW this, ye restless denizens of earth,
   Know this, ye seekers after joy and mirth,
   Three things there are, eternal in their worth.

   Love, that outreaches to the humblest things;
   Work that is glad, in what it does and brings;
   And faith that soars upon unwearied wings.

   Divine the Powers that on this trio wait.
   Supreme their conquest, over Time and Fate.
   Love, Work, and Faith—these three alone are great.



Obstacles.


    The slothful man saith, There is a lion in the way; a lion is in the
    street.—PROVERBS 26: 13.

   THERE are no lions in the street;
      No lions in the way.
   Go seek the goal, thou slothful soul,
      Awake, awake, I say.

   Thou dost but dream of obstacles;
      In God’s great lexicon,
   That word illstarred, no page has marred;
      Press on, I say, press on.

   Nothing can keep thee from thine own
      But thine own slothful mind.
   To one who knocks, each door unlocks;
      And he who seeks, shall find.



Prayer.


   LEAN on thyself until thy strength is tried;
   Then ask God’s help; it will not be denied.

   Use thine own sight to see the way to go;
   When darkness falls ask God the path to show.

   Think for thyself and reason out thy plan;
   God has his work and thou hast thine, oh, man.

   Exert thy will and use it for control;
   God gave thee jurisdiction of thy soul.

   All thine immortal powers bring into play;
   Think, act, strive, reason, then look up and pray.



Climbing.


   WHO climbs the mountain does not always climb.
   The winding road slants downward many a time;
   Yet each descent is higher than the last.
   Has thy path fallen?  That will soon be past.
   Beyond the curve the way leads up and on.
   Think not thy goal forever lost or gone.
   Keep moving forward; if thine aim is right
   Thou canst not miss the shining mountain height.
   Who would attain to summits still and fair,
   Must nerve himself through valleys of despair.



“There Is No Death, There Are No Dead.”


              (_Suggested by the book of Mr. Ed. C. Randall_.)

   “THERE is no death, there are no dead.”
   From zone to zone, from sphere to sphere,
      The souls of all who pass from here
      By hosts of living thoughts are led;
   And dark or bright, those souls must tread
      The paths they fashioned year on year.
      For hells are built of hate or fear,
   And heavens of love our lives have shed.

   Across unatlassed worlds of space,
      And through God’s mighty universe,
      With thoughts that bless or thoughts that curse,
   Each journeys to his rightful place.
      Oh, greater truth no man has said,
      “There is no death, there are no dead.”

   It lifts the mourner from the sod,
      And bids him cast away the reed
      Of some uncomforting poor creed,
   And walk with Knowledge for a rod.
   It bids the doubter seek the broad
      Vast fields, where living facts will feed
      All those whose patience proves their need
   Of these immortal truths of God.

   It brings before the eyes of faith
      Those realms of radiance, tier on tier,
      Where our beloved “dead” appear,
   More beautiful because of “death.”
      It speaks to grief: “Be comforted;
      There is no death, there are no dead.”



Realization.


   HERS was a lonely, shadowed lot;
   Or so the unperceiving thought,
   Who looked no deeper than her face,
   Devoid of chiseled lines of grace—
   No farther than her humble grate,
   And wondered how she bore her fate.

   Yet she was neither lone nor sad;
   So much of love her spirit had,
   She found an ever-flowing spring
   Of happiness in everything.

   So near to her was Nature’s heart
   It seemed a very living part
   Of her own self; and bud and blade,
   And heat and cold, and sun and shade,
   And dawn and sunset, Spring and Fall,
   Held raptures for her, one and all.

   The year’s four changing seasons brought
   To her own door what thousands sought
   In wandering ways and did not find—
   Diversion and content of mind.

   She loved the tasks that filled each day—
   Such menial duties; but her way
   Of looking at them lent a grace
   To things the world deemed commonplace.

   Obscure and without place or name,
   She gloried in another’s fame.
   Poor, plain and humble in her dress,
   She thrilled when beauty and success
   And wealth passed by, on pleasure bent;
   They made earth seem so opulent.
   Yet none of quicker sympathy,
   When need or sorrow came, than she.
   And so she lived, and so she died.

   She woke as from a dream.  How wide
   And wonderful the avenue
   That stretched to her astonished view!
   And up the green ascending lawn
   A palace caught the rays of dawn.
   Then suddenly the silence stirred
   With one clear keynote of a bird;
   A thousand answered, till ere long
   The air was quivering bits of song.
   She rose and wandered forth in awe,
   Amazed and moved by all she saw,
   For, like so many souls who go
   Away from earth, she did not know
   The cord was severed.

                           Down the street,
   With eager arms stretched forth to greet,
   Came one she loved and mourned in youth;
   Her mother followed; then the truth
   Broke on her, golden wave on wave,
   Of knowledge infinite.  The grave,
   The body and the earthly sphere
   Were gone!  Immortal life was here!
   They led her through the Palace halls;
   From gleaming mirrors on the walls
   She saw herself, with radiant mien,
   And robed in splendor like a queen,
   While glory round about her shone.
   “All this,” Love murmured, “is your own.”
   And when she gazed with wondering eye,
   And questioned whence and where and why,
   Love answered thus: “All Heaven is made
   By thoughts on earth; your walls were laid,
   Year after year, of purest gold;
   The beauty of your mind behold
   In this fair palace; aye, and more
   Waits farther on, so vast your store.
   I was not worthy when I died
   To take my place here at your side;
   I toiled through long and weary years
   From lower planes to these high spheres;
   And through the love you sent from earth
   I have attained a second birth.
   Oft when my erring soul would tire
   I felt the strength of your desire;
   I heard you breathe my name in prayer,
   And courage conquered weak despair.
   Ah! earth needs heaven, but heaven indeed
   Of earth has just as great a need.”

   Across the terrace with a bound
   There sped a lambkin and a hound
   (Dumb comrades of the old earth land)
   And fondled her caressing hand.
   “YOU LOVED THEM INTO PARADISE,”
   Was answered to her questioning eyes;
   “You taught them love; love has no end!
   Nor does love’s life on form depend.
   If there be mortal without love,
   He wakes to no new life above.
   If love in humbler things exist,
   It must through other realms persist
   Until all love rays merge in HIM.
   Hark!  Hear the heavenly Cherubim!”

   Then hushed and awed, with joy so vast
   It knew no future and no past,
   She stood amidst the radiant throng
   That came to swell love’s welcoming song—
   This humble soul from earth’s far coast
   The center of the heavenly host.

   On earth they see her grave and say:
   “She lies there till the judgment day;”
   Nor dream, so limited their thought,
   What miracles by love are wrought.



ELLA WHEELER WILCOX’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY


This is called “_The Story of a Literary Career_,” wherein Mrs. Wilcox
tells the story of her own life.

It is a modest little book, beautifully printed on fine paper, with
artistic half-tone pictures of Mrs. Wilcox and her famous home, The
Bungalow.  Bound in heavy Old Stratford, printed in two colors.

                        PRICE, 50 CENTS, POSTPAID

                             — Published by —

                  ELIZABETH TOWNE,  -  -  Holyoke, Mass.

                                * * * * *



THE NAUTILUS


This is Elizabeth Towne’s monthly magazine, of Self-Help, for which Mrs.
Wilcox wrote 26 new poems in two years.  Mrs. Wilcox recommends the
magazine to her friends.  Also some of Mrs. Towne’s books.  Ask for
sample copy of _THE NAUTILUS_ and you will learn about the books.

                               — ADDRESS —

                  ELIZABETH TOWNE,  -  -  Holyoke, Mass.





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