Poem August 20, 1921 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Winds

W. EDSON SMITH

For thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible ones is as a storm against the wall.—Isaiah 25:4.

The blast of the terrible ones may come
as a storm against the wall!
What of that? For our God is a God of calm:
I have harked to a pine cone's fall
And missed never a word of that still, small voice
Which told me the way to go;
I have heard His whisper ride down the gales
of summer—of blizzard snow.

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