Love, the Healer

EVELINE T. G. WYBRANTS

Where soil is barren, cold, and poor,
And nothing seems to grow,
Here is the place for us to strive
Some seeds of love to sow.

When pain to mortal sense seems true,
And worry, care, and fear
The truth are hiding by their mist,
'Tis love will dry the tear.

There's healing in the kindly act,
The cheering word we say;
The helping hand and thought of love
Make sorrow flee away.

With love God paints the lily fair;
His child He will protect.
The Father-Mother Love heals all,
That Love which we reflect.

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