Poem June 11, 1932 Issue

The Promise

WILLIAM FORBES

Where'er a flower lifts up its face
In sweetness, purity, and grace,
And scents the air;
Where'er a bird soars on the wing,
Or, joyous, on the bough doth sing,
Lord, Thou art there.

Where sunlight through dark trees is seen,
Where waters wind in meadows green,
Where children band;
Where mild-eyed creatures serve our will,
Where love gives wrath the "Peace, be still,"
God is at hand.

Those joys of earth, what do they bring?
The promise that the angels sing:
The Christ is near.
They are but symbols of the real,
Whose bliss Love only will reveal,
And heaven appear.