Poem August 31, 1912 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel.]

DAWN

LILLIAN CHASE.

O Thou whose splendors die not, Thou whose beam
Quickens the pulse of worship, and whose grace
overflows when human sense descries the face
Of evening sunlit clouds, or the first gleam
Breaks a new dawn which pales the sullied dream
Of night,—speak Thou to us, that we may trace,
When emblematic senses interlace
Our thoughts, immortal meanings. All that seems
Earthly in our conception, let it fade!
Thus brighter hues become the flowers we love,
And sweeter odors all their cups pervade.
Celestial be the sun that shines above,
Passion and pride of flesh in us subdued.
By Christ's own spirit evermore imbued!

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