Poem December 4, 1909 Issue

THE MASTER'S CALL

MARY LLOYD MC CONNELL.

The storm had passed me, and I lay
Upon the bosom of Life's ocean, derelict;
Far off the thunder echoed, and beyond
I heard the sullen roar of angry surf
Beating a rock-bound shore; nor hope had I
That ever ray of dawn could penetrate the gloom.
At length a star appeared,—and through the night
A tender voice I heard: "Fear not! Thou art
Not all bereft. My child, come thou to Me;
When earthly joys take flight, true peace is born!"
Then from the deeps of my unmeasured woe,
Stretching my empty hands, to Him I cried;
And when from darkness unto light I turned,
Lo! it was day!

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