Poem April 29, 1933 Issue

Acknowledgment

CAROLINE L. DIER

How oft and eagerly we plan—
Deeming our way is right!
Forgetting this—"Thy will, not mine"—
We stumble through the night.

Sometimes we strive and beat the wings
Of human hope and cry
For peace and guidance, heeding not
Love's star so clear and nigh.

Sometimes the heart impatient grows
When storm clouds hide the sun;
God's child serene in patience waits,
"Love's perfect work is done."

Love means that we shall seek the way,
Hand in hand we must go
With Him whose tender voice has called:
"Be still, my child, and know."

We do not have to plead with God
To give us more—or less;
"Our God is Love"—O precious words
That comfort, heal, and bless!

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