[Written for the Sentinel]

Thoughts for Each Hour

Wings in the sky at morning's shining gate,—the wings of wrath, the maniac wings of hate.O Spirit, save us e'er it be too late!Swiftly the answer came:

There are no wings in the wide sky above,But the protecting wings of God's great love,—The Holy Spirit brooding as a doveO'er those who trust His name.

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From Our Exchanges
October 6, 1917
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