[Written for the Sentinel.]

BEYOND THE MISTS

Within the westward, as I gazed, mine eyesA noble peak did many times behold,That to my sense Truth's permanence foretold:Mind's endless reign and error's sure demise;Now, as I look, no mountain doth arise,For see! a dismal fog hath o'er it rolled!Yet know I well, beneath this covering coldUnchanged in all its grandeur still it lies.

O fickle heart, that oft on Truth had gazed,And Love's assuring voice so often knew!Why fearest thou the mist befor thee raised,And knowing Truth, yet thinkest error true?Stand thou! be firm! and not through fear amazed,Till flees the false and comes the real to view.

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FROM OUR EXCHANGES
September 21, 1912
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