Poem September 5, 1936 Issue

The Goal

MABEL CONE BUSHNELL

Humbly I pray to see Your way;
Sometimes the road seems long,
But always if I walk with You
And lift my voice in song,
The sweetness of Your love is mine
In ever lovelier sense;
The way grows brighter every step,
The clouds not near so dense.

Meekly I ask You how to go,
Dear Father-Mother God;
How then to keep my eyes on You,
And safe above the sod?
The dark material arguments,
The shadows, disappear,
When humbly I seek You alone
And You alone revere.

Gladly I know You hear my prayer,
You lift me up to You;
I see beyond the veil of sense,
I know now what to do:
All work must be to point the way,
To help all men to see
That here and now man stands with You
In blest eternity.