Waymarks

MARY WHEELER

No shadow falls upon the ground
But points unto the sun;
No streamlet lies in frost-chains bound
But shall in summer run.

No discord jangles from the lute
But hints at harmony;
No desert stretches void and mute
But tells of sounding sea.

So ne'er a lie flaunts aping face
But counterfeits the truth;
So hate and strife but claim the place
Decreed to love and ruth.

So evil has but seeming sway,
And good is not in thrall;
So sense and finiteness give way
To Soul, the All-in-all.

E'en death can boast no victory,
The grave must yield its sting:
Life is,—enough this verity,—
Faith asks no surer wing.

And man, that seems to earth-blind eyes
So poor, an earthy clod,
Seen true, is heir of all the skies,
The very son of God.

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE

Editorial

"In perfect peace"

January 30, 1915

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit