[Written for the Sentinel]

Paul and Silas

How clear your vision; how serene your trust,Brave gospel messengers! Though basely served,Afflicted sore; in loathsome dungeon thrust;By cruel stocks confined—all undeserved—Yet, at black midnight's hour, united voiceUplifting gratefully, ye waited notThe moment of deliverance to rejoice.Full well ye knew such ruthless, unjust lotNo part of governance of Love divine,Hence but a passing phase of human sense.In answer swift the quaking earth gave signThe wrath of man yields to omnipotence.

I, too, would learn this lesson—to sing praiseWhen error's bondage claims to hold me fast.For, as above the seeming ill I raiseTruth-lighted thought, and wholly from me castFalse mortal evidence, true freedom waitsMy praiseful affirmations, just at hand.Then, howsoe'er entangled in dire straits,I'll hymn my gratitude and firmly standIn Christly liberty, assured no wrong—Since baseless and unreal—can outstayGod's nearness realized. The night-time song,Is sure forerunner of glad freedom's day!

December 3, 1927

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