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ELLA A. STONE

As when a little child,
Awaked from troubled sleep,
Beset by haunting fear,
Will to his mother creep,

And in those loving arms,
Held round him close and dear,
The phantoms of his sleep
Will cease to give him fear;

So in our mortal sense,
When dreams bring fear or pain,
We come to God's dear love,
And happy peace regain.

Within His sheltering arms
We lose our sense of fear;
We cannot be afraid
With Love so close and dear.

We waken to the truth
That suffering is unreal;
That peace, and love, and joy
Are all that we can feel.

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