Poem June 1, 1935 Issue

Jesus of Nazareth

MURIEL E. WOODRUFF

So gentle was his touch, so kind his eye—
No fragile loveliness could pass him by,
Nor shrink affrighted from his waiting hand,
Lest, seeing, he should fail to understand.

The secret of the heart—the wistful word—
Were known to him, for it was love that heard.
And to a little child his message rings,
Enfolding tenderly all fledgling wings.

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Extracts from Reports of Christian Science Committees on Publication
June 1, 1935
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