[Written for the Sentinel.]

LAUS DEO

With promises my garden teems.And in my heart a pure joy glows;But stay—if God were now withdrawn,Could any bud become a rose?

No acorn could put forth an oak,No tiny bird e'er leave its nest,Nor rose her tenderness unfold,If it were not for Love's behest.

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Article
FROM OUR EXCHANGES
July 11, 1908
Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit