[Written for the Sentinel]

Joseph

I owe thee debt, brother of bygone age,
For brave example, shining yet to speed
Me on. Grievous thy case: victim of rage,
Of jealousy, thy rugged path didst lead
Through pit and prison dark; by barter sent
A slave to alien land, thy master found
Thee diligent in all affairs, attent
To duty's voice, seeing in common round
Of tasks a means of serving good, until
Vile calumny struck cruel, treacherous blow,
And thou, as if thy bitter cup to fill,
Basely accused, in dungeon wert laid low.
What then? Didst yield to gloom, on thy sad course
Sit brooding, harboring hate and vengeful plan?
Not so! for still, within those walls, a force
For righteousness, didst show thyself a man
Superior to every state of ill,
For God was with thee, prospering thy hand.
Thy guerdon? Freed, throned next the king; thy will
The sovereign law; honored throughout the land.
Thus would I steadfast be as earth's rough way
I tread. What though some pit of mortal mind
Yawn darkly ominous, my steps to stay?
What if by bars of human sense confined,
As ignorance or injustice try to work
Their will, and traitorous false beliefs invade
My consciousness? Shall I, resentful, shirk
And mourn my lot? Nay, rather, unafraid,
With God my help, will I count each dire plight
An opportunity to prove Truth's power,
To love yet more, to conquer wrong with right!
So, rendering fruitful service hour by hour
Until, all obstacles o'ercome, unbound,
Dominion won through Spirit's strength alone,
I rest, content that I, as thou, finding
The way through pit and prison, gained the throne.

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October 24, 1925
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