Poem August 5, 1933 Issue

"Pilgrim on earth, thy home is heaven"*

VERA CONSTANCE HOWARD

Desolate wanderer, where art thou straying?
Why in the mist of dreams dost thou still roam?
Loved of the Father, nurtured, protected,
Child of the perfect One, rise and come home.

Turn from the husks of self-pity and doubting,
Food such as this hath the Father not given;
Child of the Spirit, thou'rt nourished forever
With milk of the Word and true bread of heaven.

Seek not to labor for that which but perisheth;
There is not gathered the lasting and true.
One with the perfect Mind, one with His purpose,
E'en as the Father works must thou work too.

Ask, would the Mind that created and fashioned thee,
Ever to be the expression of Love,
Form thee as part of eternity's planning,
Then any trace of His sustenance move?

Come, take thy seamless robe, spiritual, perfect,
Whole, undivided by death, want, or sin.
Close at thy hand gleams Life's unbroken circle,
Heir of true-founded hope—enter thou in!

Hear the assurance of God, Father-Mother,
Stilling all fears with compassion divine,
Filling all needs with unceasing abundance:
Son, thou art with Me, and all Mine is thine.

*Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, by Mary Baker Eddy, page 254.

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