[Written for the Sentinel]

"Thy will be done"

Father, forgive me, that I could believe
Man in Thy likeness met me to deceive;
That I was prone to see my brother's ill
As real, as his, and he Thy image still!

Father, forgive me, that I tried in vain
To raise another from his couch of pain;
That, drugged in human sympathy, my prayer
Rose scarcely higher than his load of care!

Father, forgive, if I have labored long
To reach great heights of faith in raptured song,
While still the words come, ignorant and brief,
"Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief"!

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NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Editorial
"The bond of perfectness"
September 14, 1929
Contents

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