[Written for the Sentinel.]


Dark the night with cloud of sorrow,
With tear-dimmed vision of tomorrow,—
So much of joy and hope had fled;
When unto me the still voice said,
Read thou the Word,—"She is not dead"!
'Tis but a darkling dream. Be led
By Truth, until its dawning day
Shall flood with light thy future way.

Thus did I pray for dawn of light;
Like Jacob, wrestling all the night
With false beliefs and many fears.
And reading on through blinding tears,
Searching the Word which heals and cheers,
Lo, sense dreams vanish, light appears;
The mist of error clears away—
Far spent the night; 'tis dawn of day!

In righteous paths Love leadeth me
To pastures green. Ah, now I see
I must be led; I fain would choose
A flowery path and rainbow hues.
This is the way, Love cries; else lose
The promised heights and grander views.
Love heals my sense of grief and tears,
And bids me hope and stills my fears.

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February 24, 1912

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