Poem February 14, 1925 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

The Call

EDITH D. HOPKINS

IN Love divine all good abounds,

All earth its presence feels;

Of sin and death it breaks the bonds;

With truth and life it heals.

No mortal sense, dear child of God,

Can hold in darksome dream,

Man is the image of His love,

Revealed through Mind supreme.

The voice of Truth calls clear to all

Who have the "listening ear"—

Come, enter through the open door,

Thou know'st there's naught to fear!

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