[Written for the Sentinel]

The Great Surrender

How tenderly, when we were little children,
As evening came they took away our toys,
Knowing that night brings rest for tired people;
And as we weeping left our childish joys,
How gentle were the arms then folded round us,
How quiet was the voice that bade us rest,
Whispered our toys would all be there tomorrow
And sleep was best.

And later, when the swiftly lengthening shadows
Gathered to show another day was o'er,
Some one we knew would very softly enter,
Moving with care across the nursery floor.
Our toys and dolls had long since been forgotten;
We lay at rest, nor wished to understand,
Holding in ours, amid the deepening twilight,
A well-loved hand.

O patient Love, who all the way hast led us
Since first we met Thee in our mother's eyes,
Help us to leave the foolish toys and treasures,
The earthly hopes and dreams we vainly prize.
We are but tired children! Tender Shepherd,
Just as of old, until the night is past,
Take Thou our hands within Thy quiet keeping
And hold them fast.

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November 13, 1915

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