[Written for the Sentinel.]

THE VISITANT

MANTLED in might, Love knocks at your gate—Love urgent of voice and tender of eye.Think not it is night and He comes too late;'Tis always morning when Love draws nigh.

Though bleak is the blast on the lonely woldAnd the fickle sky has forgotten the sun,Lone watcher, nor gray is the hour nor cold;Love and the glory of summer are one.

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THE CHRISTIAN SCIENCE MONITOR
December 5, 1908
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