Poem October 1, 1927 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Our Hand in Thine

GERTRUDE GOODE CLARK

Father , no human touch we crave;
No human voice to still our fear.
But, oh, let us Thy presence feel;
Let us but know that Thou art near!

For then all doubts and fears depart;
All human longings take their flight;
We clasp Thy hand, and step by step
We walk with Thee throughout the night.

We do not know the path Thou hast

For us to travel, but we know
Thy gentle Love directs our course,
And prompts our feet which way to go.

Oh, Love, how sweet it is to know,
Although the path be steep and rough,
Thy gentle presence goes before;
Thou hast our hand—this is enough.

Thy light reveals the joy, the flowers,
The beauty all along the way.
We gain sweet sermons from the stones,
And good in all throughout the day.

The grass on which we walk exclaims,
"Be meek, dear heart, inherit thou
The kingdom of thy God, for Love
Is round about thee, here and now."

And when we have that Mind in us—
The Mind of Christ—'t is then we know
Our hand 's in Thine, Thou hold'st us close
Within the way that we should go.

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Editorial
The Fiction of Fear
October 1, 1927
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