[Written for the Sentinel]

Things Substantial

The artist true paints not the world he sees
With eyes grown dim at scanning faultful things;
But to the landscape, face, and form he brings
The eyes of soul, to him real nature's keys.
In autumn, when the trees bright hues take on,
And wave their banners in exulting mood,
They say not, "For a time we'll part from good,"
But up to clearer heights they urge us on.
God's world is perfect; 'tis our sense that fails
To see true beauty as it lies in store;
'Tis limitation of our sense that veils
The mansion for us all prepared before.
God's tree is always growing in His sight,
God's man is always living in His might.

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"Conformed to the doctrines"
January 16, 1915

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