[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 ledBy Truth, until its dawning dayShall flood with light thy future way.

Thus did I pray for dawn of light;Like Jacob, wrestling all the nightWith 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!

February 24, 1912

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