The Tide of Love

If there were not the rushing of His grace
To stem the backward thoughts that would efface
My calm, by stinging memories that retrace
Regrets, revive misdeeds, old errors base,
My heart would low be laid.

But consciousness divine! A flood uprears
Of blessed confidence, my Father hears!
His love sweeps in, enfolds me, heartens, cheers:
His presence felt, this miracle appears—
I stand, no more afraid.

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November 21, 1936

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