[Written for the Sentinel]

Into the Light

The way seems dark, my Father;Cloud upon cloud seems drifting slowly o'er my headAnd loud the thunders roar about me;When lo! above these clouds of fear I see Thee stand,And hear Thee say, in voice of sweet command,"Fear not," and, "Take my hand."

And through the clouds of sorrow, sickness, sin, and fear,The light of Truth shines clearly far and near,And leads me to behold the secret placeWhere Love doth dwell, and from the gloomLeads safely home His child so dear.

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From Our Exchanges
July 18, 1914
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