[Written for the Sentinel]

Roses of Memory

Love gave us memory,
That roses fair might in December bloom,
With fragrance rare.

When life seems drear, and chilled
By winter's snow, in thought I turn to where
My roses blow;

In mem'ry's garden fair,
By sunbeams kissed, dark error disappears
Like morning mist.

With joyous feet I walk
Through sunny bowers, and view with pure delight
My fragrant flowers.

For in their dewy depths
God's smile I see; in every petal, trace
His love for me.

Oft had I used the gift
Of memory to think of things which should
Forgotten be.

But now, o'er bygone ills
No more I brood, since Truth revealed to me
That God is good.

The dreams of sense no more
Recur to me; for evil has no past,
No entity.

God, good, is everywhere;
He fills all space; so naught can evil claim
Of power or place.

Gone are the thorns and briars;
And in their room, within my garden fair,
Sweet roses bloom—

Roses of memory,
The emblems fair of God's eternal love
And tender care.

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Editorial
No Self-justification
September 8, 1923
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