[Written for the Sentinel]


O SILENT Father! How I once did long
For quiet places where the clashing haste
Of men had never dinned; where hills reached up
To touch the cooling sky, the cattle lowed
Distant, in calming, muffled tones; where sang
The thrushes with their single, mellow note,
And grasses humbly whispered in the winds!

O quiet Father! since Thy presence fair
Doth fill my days with loveliness undreamed,
And all about I see faint glimpses near
Of vast unending peace and tender power,
I take my vision of Thy glory down
Into the very heart of restless throngs,
Nor lose my sweet content; for rarer scenes
Have I than ever stretched upon the hills
Or slumbered idly 'neath a watching sky.

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Signs of the Times
August 31, 1929

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