Poem November 6, 1915 ISSUE

[Written for the Sentinel]

Offertory

EMILY HOUSEHOLDER

O new-born day, my chalice filledI bring unto thy shrine,Repentant dew from night distilledTo be transformed to wine.

O ripening noon, my listening earAwaits thy harvest callTo fields already white and near,That not one grain may fall.

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The second of the letters against Christian Science written...
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