[Written for the Sentinel]


As gently as the dew on tender flower,Comes to the heart Love's holy, healing power;As lightly as the breeze in summer air,Truth clears the mist of sense that lodgeth there.

Truth does not change! Each child of God must beHis perfect image through eternity;Thine eyes but open to a wider range—The truth of being time can never change.

March 30, 1918

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.