[Written for the Sentinel]


Thy sun shall no more go down.—Isaiah.

Fast racing clouds enveil a wintry sky;
Through trees down-bent the storm winds moan
and sigh,

And hurrying snowflakes scatter silently;
Then at the evening hour,
Breaking through gloom and shower,
Glowing in radiant power,
Glory of sunlight.

Lying enshrouded close in clinging clay,
The husk-freed seedlet cleaves its upward way
In patient faith, throughout each cold, dark day;
Then a fair sight behold—
Girdled in green and gold,
See the sealed bud unfold
Kissed by the sunlight.

Climbing on steadfast feet the rugged steep,
Led by His voice the path of Truth to keep, Healed are the hearts that faint, the eyes that weep;
Fled is the seeming night
There on the mountain height,
Flooded in amber bright,
Sunlight eternal.

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February 1, 1919

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