Poem April 20, 1935 Issue

Assurance

MARY MARGARET SHIPHERD

So near to me the Father's love abides
That reaching out I cannot find a place
Which is not filled with overflowing bliss,
And healing harmony's reflected grace.

Here is no pathless desert, void of life,
Nor dreary waste, where thorns and briers bind,
But fruitful gardens filled with melody,
Wherein the blessed walk the way of Mind.

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