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Poem May 22, 1915 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Angel Reapers

ROBERT E. KEY

O Lord of harvest, when the seed
Is swaying into ripened grain,
Take from its side the stubborn weed,—
The sin, disease, and pain;
And on the happy harvest morn,
When reapers greet the quiet day,
Let glory gild the golden corn
With Love's celestial ray.

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