[Written for the Sentinel.]

THE MOUNTAIN FOLD

The sunlight fades above the ocean bed,And through the trees an amber glow burns red,Tingeing the leaves with gold.The gentle breath of even rustles by,As from the height the faithful shepherd's cryCalleth me to the fold.

And am I ever ready to obeyThe call thus coming at the close of day,When far I roam?Though steep ascends the rugged path, I climb;I hear Thy voice, and may Thy will be mineTo lead me home!

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FROM OUR EXCHANGES
March 23, 1912
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