Poem November 28, 1925 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Life's Symphony

AMY DOROTHEA DAVISON

As you have waited for the symphony,
Have you not murmured at the notes unblent
Of 'cellos, woodwinds, horns, and violins,
As each musician tunes his instrument?
Then comes a pause, a hush, as every eye
Is fastened on the leader's rod upraised,
And at his signal bursts the flood of song,
Full-throated, rich, triumphant, clearly phrased.
Mark how each, blending its identity,
Is needed still to make the whole complete,
Unswerving from the law of harmony,
Lest wayward notes should mar the music sweet.

So we, the players in life's symphony,
When centered in our own attempt to play,
Make only discord with our fellow-men,
Clashing and strident in our selfish way.
Yet when we hush our human wills and wants,
And listen for the "still small voice" of Love,
And when thus led, in perfect unity,
We each obey the Principle above,
Having the Mind of Christ, meek, humble, pure,
And giving up our selfish aims and fears,
How beauteous is the harmony produced—
Yea, sweeter than the music of the spheres!

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