Can you hear the whisper low — in the trees,
Just at nightfall, when the sighing evening breeze
Fills the sacred moments with repose?
Listen — now you caught the word of fond release—
Christ is speaking — what a word of lasting peace
Crowns the daily life of him who knows

Tell the story, though 'twere full of seeming grief;
Though' twere tempered with a sense of false belief.
Tell thy story; open wide thy heart.
Now the Master listens —child of tender years,
Canst thou, looking up. dismiss thy idle fears?
Know that God will take thy humble part?

All is well with thee, though darkness shroud the night.
When the morning dawns upon thy waking sight
Trust, and Truth alone, will make thee free,
God is Love! I hear it in the swaying trees.
When I listen to the gentle twilight breeze.
This is what the Master says to me.

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December 28, 1907

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