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Poem March 16, 1935 Issue

Let Me Awake

ROBIN A. WALKER

When night has spent its seeming spell
And songbirds rise their joy to tell,
When crimson dawn the chill mist breaks;
My thought awakes!

When darkness dwells within my thought,
Pretending that my hope means naught,
Then comes a gleam—God's way I take;
Let me awake!

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