Poem August 4, 1917 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Dawn

ELISABETH RICHARDS

Oh , joy is mine! the day at last is breaking,
The night far spent proclaims the dawn is near;
The clouds of mortal sense their leave are taking,
And perfect Love is casting out all fear.
The morning star shines high above the meadows,
And one glad ray of light has just begun
To drive away dark shapes and fearful shadows
That disappear before the rising sun.

With chart in hand I walk the gleaming highway,
Striving with steady step the goal to win,
Yet watch with care to shun each tempting byway
That would lead back to mortal sense or sin.
And if before me looms some dark temptation,
I look within my chart, and there I read—
"But thou shalt call thy walls Salvation,
And thy gates Praise." Oh, joy indeed!

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