Freedom

WELTHA G. SMITH

Around me lie such sordid things,
A brother's failures and despair,
But overhead the thrushes flit
A-singing through the fragrant air.

Beside me stalks the fear of death;
A pilgrim's bonds constrain my soul;
Yet out upon the boundless deep
The mighty billows freely roll.

Oh, beauty! thou a prisoner art
Within this oft-rebelling breast;
Oh, love! too human is thy power;
It cannot still the world's unrest.

But lo! a sunset dares appear;
The glorious shades of evening fall,
While being, bathed in realms of light,
Doth hear the universal call.

Where now is all the sordidness,
The fetters clinging to the heart?
Dull scenes, farewell! The Spirit's sway
Doth bid dark visionings depart.

For naught is real but God's own gifts—
Beloved joy and purity;
And life, resplendent in such robes,
Reflects the heavenly sanctity.

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Signs of the Times

February 23, 1929

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