Poem March 29, 1930 Issue

[Written for the Sentinel]

Peniel

DOUGLAS HURN

By Jabbok's ford the patriarch, all alone,
Strove with an angel till the break of day;
Yet yielded not, nor was he overthrown.
Though shrank his sinew, he knew not dismay,
Nor would release the angel, save he blessed:
So was he blessed beyond the meed he sought.
No more supplanter—stealer of bequest;
But now God's soldier, who had humbly wrought
With God's evangel! Then a ray more bright
Than that of day upon Peniel came,
The dawn of Truth, Love's own most perfect light,
Transformed his nature even as his name.
Thus, if we strive sure-hearted, shall we gain
God's blessing. Naught but ill can shrink or fail.
Though sense may limp and falsehood's cords may strain,
By our firm hold on good, we shall prevail.

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March 29, 1930
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