Poem May 23, 1925 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Redemption

JOHN ASHCROFT

"Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell,"
My heart's desire Thou wilt not scorn;
For Thou, who doest all things well,
Dost know my longing, newly born.
Thou know'st the first faint flutt'ring trend
Of thought to Thee-ward humbly turned:
The heart that would its ways amend,
The gold, from which the dross is burned.

"Thou wilt not leave my soul in hell,"
My quickened sense Thou wilt not spurn;
For Thou, who knowest all things well,
Dost know the thoughts that in me burn.
Thou know'st the heights I would achieve,
The consciousness I would attain:
Oh, help me, Love, truth to receive,
The sense of man's perfection gain.

Thou hast not left my soul in hell,—
To Thee, Thine Holy One is pure;
And so, unto myself I tell
The story of redemption sure.
Thou hast not left me to despair,—E'en now a revelation sweet
Has dawned, and in its radiance fair
I find the Christ unmarred,—complete.

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Signs of the Times
May 23, 1925
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