[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 be
His perfect image through eternity;
Thine eyes but open to a wider range—
The truth of being time can never change.

Ah, thine are peace and gladness if thou seek
The Life divine with grateful heart and meek!
There's naught but good,—no evil thou canst find
In thy true home, our Father-Mother Mind!

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March 30, 1918

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