[Written for the Sentinel]

"A still small voice"

"Oh, where is God?" my heart cried out
In its dream of pain and fear;
"I must find Him now; the need is great,
And the way seems dark and drear."

"He is here!" the humble violet smiled,
Lifting her meek, sweet face;
"Here, where the heart lays down its pride,
Donning humility's grace."

"He is here!" a fragrant incense rose
Up from the lily white;
"The pure in heart see God," it said,
"Purity finds the light."

"He is here!" the skylark mounting sang
In his morning hymn of praise:
"Lift up thy heart—'tis the way to Him;
Thank Him in all thy ways!"

And lo! in the silence a voice within—
"Why seekest thou God afar?
Love is with thee and everywhere,
That Love's expressions are!"

Then I woke in the dawn of humble faith
To purity's hymn of praise.
The fear and the pain and the doubt were gone,
Vanished in Love's pure rays.

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November 20, 1915
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