Poem July 22, 1916 Issue

I say to thee, do thou repeat...

Trench

I say to thee, do thou repeat
To the first man thou may'st meet
In lane, highway, or open street,

That he, and we, and all men move
Under a canopy of love
As broad as the blue sky above.

And ere thou leave him, say thou this:
Yet one word more: they only miss
The winning of that final bliss

Who will not count it true that Love,
Blessing, not cursing, rules above,
And that in Him we live and move.

Archbishop Trench.

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