[Written for the Sentinel]

Rest

AND what of rest— Whence is it? In the secret place of the Most High, In the quiet of unsoiled humility, Recognitive of the inner peace That lieth foursquare Where that which comes and goes Disturbs it not, There true peace is found, Asking not nor seeking, But quiescent unto eternal things.

Within are treasures of effulgent light By that light revealed, Emanating from the hidden mine Whence wisdom and perpetual beauty shine. Aye, deep in consciousness there glows A living flame. Its being none may question; Its habitat always the same Forever is free born. And when the clamor dies Which through the senses seems to rise, Its pure and perfect light shines forth, Restfully proclaiming Man's true birth.

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Testimony of Healing
About sixteen years ago, after a search of several years...
June 4, 1921
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