[Written for the Sentinel.]

A Message from the Workshop

THOSE silent years the Master toiled,—when he,
    The well-beloved, bent with patient care
O'er plane and work-bench, oftentimes for me,—
    God's hand marks their design.
When poor and small the task seems I have wrought,
    And cheerless fear-clouds darken all the fair
Blue sky of hope and gladness, with the thought,
    Vain is this toil of mine;
How often have the comfort for my tears,
    And faith to raise mine eyes to bluer skies.
Come through the message of those silent years,—
    Those years the Master builded, human-wise.

                                         One with eternal Mind,
And true to humble tasks from day to day,
    The workshop gave the Master grace to prove
That God would wisely guide him all the way,—
    All through the bitter hours of Calvary
E'en to the joyous meal beside the sea,
    Spread for the fishermen of Galilee.
Through days of toil, he found the time to pray
    That God would guide his steps eternally,
And show the wondrous peace and power of Love
    To heal and save mankind.

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Salvation is not through Mere Belief
February 17, 1906

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