[Written for the Sentinel]


There is a light—in heaven held supreme—Which day or night in luster shines the same.It glides into the cottage corner mean,And glints upon the gilded temple vane.Its beauty is the rose's fragrant breath;Its radiance is the mariner's delight,As rocked upon the surging sea of deathHe steers his vessel for the harbor light.To know it is to dwell in freedom's fold;To voice it is to have a perfect speech;To see it is forever to beholdThe earth and heaven which the prophets teach,—No sad suspense, no unavailing tear,No sighing from a surging sea of grief,No stress of doubt or ragged rock of fear,No sandy shore of barren blind belief.Oh, seek its shelter and enjoy its shade!Oh, hear its whisper and obey its call!Let tattered trouble from thy figure fade,And on thy shoulders let Truth's mantle fall.

September 11, 1915

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