Poem December 28, 1912 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel.]

INWARD JOURNEYING

RALPH CROSMAN.

Begone , ye tinseled treasures
That fade in morning's light!
Pass on, ye paltry pleasures
Of days that die at night.
He gives, the great good Giver,
The day that dieth never,
The day no dark can sever,
The life that knows no blight.

Into that deathless dawning
He leads all weary feet—
Far in where all is morning,
Leads on to life complete—
Leads on to inward glory
Where love's low offertory
Sings o'er and o'er the story
The wearied heart finds sweet;

From height to height leads onward
Across the kingdom's bourn,
Leads where no paths lead sinward
Nor senses are that mourn.
There, deep in Love's deep silence,
Where God is all reliance
And Christ the only Science,
The earth sense ends—outworn!

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