Poem April 22, 1922 ISSUE

[Written for the Sentinel]

Ascension

BEATRICE CLAYTON

Toward Bethany he led them, home of peace,Sweet human love, pure faith, and answered prayer.He led them back to Bethany; even so,By remote ways of simple tenderness,Is gained the mount of vision; thus we riseBy humble, unsought paths to the sublime.

And there he blessed them. From what mighty sourceThat blessing poured, that stream of healing flowedTo those half-trembling learners! As they gazedIn the deep eyes, drank in the Master's words,He drew apart, above, was seen no more.

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