Poem January 31, 1925 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

The Summit

ZITA F. BLANKENBAKER

O God , divine encircling Love,
The mountain path to liberty
Seems long. Yet, do I know, above
I may look far, new beauties see
That will reward me evermore
For the steep climb. The wide, full view
Of valleys, rich in Truth's vast store,
And hills in bloom the whole year through
With purest flowers of faith and peace;
All these will open to my eyes,
And never will the music cease,
The harmony which fills the skies.

Oh, Father-Mother God, I pray
That I may ever keep the path;
That I may bravely mount the way.

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