Poem May 15, 1915 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Realities

ABBIE FOSDICK RANSOM

The way I cannot see,
But this I know,
My hand in Love's must be,
Where'er I go.

Though smooth the path or rough,
Sunshine or rain,
Love giveth strength enough,
Peace to attain.

Grief, sickness, death, and sin,—
Illusions these;
Truth, Love, and peace within,—
Realities!

Truth thus will surely meet
All need of mine;
Where'er I set my feet,
Love's light will shine.

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