Poem September 3, 1921 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Living Joy

ELIZABETH C. ASHBAUGH

Our lives are not the dark, despairing dreams
That poor deluded mortals sadly say;
The blackest night, the heaviest storm-cloud seems
Ever to usher in the brighest day.

No "sob between the silences," but free,
A joyous song, courageous, thrilling, brave,
Triumphant notes of Spirit victory
O'er sin and pain and sorrow and the grave.

Glad birds are singing in the budding trees,
A blue sky bends the awakening earth above,
Through sun-kissed cypress boughs the gentle breeze
Is whispering to men that God is Love.
Sin, sorrow, pain, and death are but the night,
Dispelled by God's immortal love and light.

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