Poem August 21, 1915 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

"Ever with me"

ADELA V. SCRIMGEOUR

I lay upon a hillside cold and bare;
I had no friends, no home, no means to live,
When on my dull ears struck a voice divine,
"Son, thou art ever with me; all is thine."

A hope sprang up within my darkened heart.
If all is mine, how was I ever poor?
If Love is ever with me, I can rest
My head forever on the Father's breast.

No foe could follow where I chose to roam,
For Love is my protector night and day.
All hate fled powerless when the searching light
Of Love divine illumined all the night.

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