Poem December 4, 1937 Issue

Demonstration

ROWENA A. MILLS

In this deep stillness past our understanding,
I turn from all material things to Thee.
As dew on tender herb there falls a blessing,
While Love unfolds its wondrous plan to me.

I feel the healing calm of Thy dear presence,
A gladness which the world can never give.
All tears are wiped away—all pain and sorrow;
Thine is the glory, Lord! In Thee I live!

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Extracts from Reports of Christian Science Committees on Publication
December 4, 1937
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