[Written for the Sentinel]


When beauty opes, as does the snowy rose,
And sends its sweetness into all the world,
Then is the Christ, the true idea, unfurled
Before the sight of men. How far it goes,
No one may tell. No mortal really knows
The wideness of its sweep, the surety of its touch,
Until he sees how perfect and how much
The innate value of his own sphere grows.
No, there is nor country wide nor state
Where pure, white flame and gracious sunrise tints
Do not awake the thought, the eye requite,
And thus transcend, with wings that are elate,
The drifting chaos. Then, angelic glints
Of beauty burst into perpetual light!

Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.