Poem May 10, 1919 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

"Ye shall know the truth"

BEATRICE CLAYTON

O certainty most sweet, most calm and pure,
Which in his bosom glows,
Who, from all mortal joy and pain secure,
Nor hopes nor fears,—but knows.

Hope fades in sweet assurance; every hour,
Still clearer and more clear
'Tis understood that only Love has power,
That good is all, and here.

Fear has no place; in uttermost storm and stress
The great peace reigns within;
Thought dwells in Love which knows no bitterness,
Which cancels self and sin.

The tiny lake which gems yon dark ravine,—
Above it, wild winds pass;
But stars shine mirrored in its breast serene,
As in a sea of glass.

'Mid violence of war, the horrid scene
By embattled thousands trod,
Rides forth to conquer, with compassionate mien,
One like the Son of God.

No clamoring boast of sense, no blast of hate,
Can still the ascending psalm;
He who knows God as Principle, can wait;
He dwells in changeless calm.

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On page 139 of Science and Health Mrs. Eddy points...
May 10, 1919
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