Poem January 18, 1900 Issue

Coming Day

BY KATE JONES

Heed not that error seems to hold
Unbounded sway,—
The darkest hour—'tis said of old—
Precedes the day.

Turn from the darkness of the night—
The senses' sway—
To see the coming of the light
Of perfect day.

The mists of darkness melt away
When comes the light;
So errors melt in Love's pure ray
And take their flight.

The songs of birds herald the birth
Of coming day;
So thoughts of love from heaven to earth
Show us the way.

The day is here, the night has fled!
We walk in Love.
The past of fear and doubt is dead;
We live above.

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