Sanctuary

Swift to this lovely place the sweet bird wings—Ah, well he knows that he may come—Here in this quiet gladeFind his full sustenance, and weave his home,Trusting and undismayed.Joyous on fragrant bough he swings,Nor long delaysTo voice his gratitude—In torrents of delightful songPours forth his praise.

We, too, have a retreat, when sorrows chasten,Beneath Love's wings a refuge rare,And in that gentle shadeTenderly are we fed and nested, resting thereSecure, and unafraid.Then to this holy haven let us hasten,Nor long delayTo voice our gratitude;But may our brightest paeans of thanks be heard—In gladness rivaling that lovely bird!

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Signs of the Times
September 7, 1935
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