[Written for the Sentinel]

A Hymn

Sweet violets springing into birth,With timely showers that bathe the earth;The birds all caroling in songTheir early praises, loud and long,In purest melody—Should they not our devotion wake,And from each heart its burden take;Bring joy and comfort to abideWhere selfishness is prone to hide,Breaking Life's harmony?

Oh, gentle Spirit, Truth divine,That in our consciousness would shine,Let not the shades of erring thoughtConceal that love so dearly boughtBy wondrous sacrifice!Grant us the grace Thy will to know,The confidence to banish woe,The patience that to wisdom yieldsAnd finds in it the might that wieldsA power to win the prize.

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Editorial
Mind and Its Manifestation
August 21, 1926
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