[Written for the Sentinel]


A quiet hour at dawn of prayer and light;
A day alone with Truth amid earth's throng;
A silent song of triumph in the night,—
Such sweet communion hours to heaven belong.

The wine of gratitude for every need;
From Love's unfailing store, the bread of heaven,
The "hidden manna" of a selfless deed,—
This is the feast the healing Christ hath given.

A glimpse of nations walking in the light,
Within the holy city where nor sun
Nor moon doth shine, and where there is no night,
Reveals eternal day as changeless, one.

This moment, now unfolding, Love hath blest.
The holy city coming down from good
Is just at hand. Ye weary pilgrims, rest,—
Communion is revealed and understood.

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