[Written for the Sentinel]


How often in the quiet night,When sleep has fled and shadows fall,Love's angels guard with strength and might,Revealing Truth as over all;And morning sunshine, clear and bright,Finds us rejoicing in the right.

How often, too, in day's long hours,When shades of gloom would intervene,Turning to Truth we find the flowersOf holy purpose, all unseenBy mortal eyes, and doubt and fearVanish from thought, for Love is here.

September 29, 1928

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