"The desert shall ... blossom as the rose"

MARY C. CAMPBELL

The desert plain seemed arid, void of life;
No flower or fruit was seen, no beast or bird;
Within its scorching waste, nor man, nor maid,
No sound of rippling waters to be heard.

The wanderer lowly bows in humble prayer:
This aching void with love, O Father, fill;
Enrich my empty life and vision give;
All-Father mine, let me but love Thee still.

The sun goes down, the weary wanderer rests
Upon his cheerless couch of rock and stone—
Exhausted sleeps; a silence deep prevails;
In distant eastern sky gleams one star lone.

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