[Written for the Sentinel.]

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS

Dost thou, dear one, still face an angry sea?Do clouds of darkness yet encompass thee?Do seething white-capped breakers, giants they,About thy ship with vicious moanings stay?Then lift thine eyes to yonder pilot tower;Thy Friend is there, however dark the hour.The hand of Love, unfailing, tried and true,Is sure to bring thy bark with safety through.

Hast thou been turned away from earthly ties?From all that worldly wealth and station buys?Alone? bereft of hope and sick at heart?Hast thou not strength to act thy given part?Then turn to God in thy extremity;The hand that was thy pilot out at seaIs guiding into harbors safe and fair,And Love's supply will ne'er be wanting there.

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Editorial
"COMPARISONS ARE ODOROUS"
December 23, 1911
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