Poem August 21, 1937 Issue

In Thy House

ROWENA A. MILLS

Oh, we would enter in Thy house, dear Lord!
Outside the storms of grief and hate assail
The tired wanderer, and he shrinks in fear
From lightning flash and roar of storm and gale.

But in Thy house, dear Father, there is peace—
A certain haven from the hidden snare;
And resting in Thy presence we may know
The sweet assurance of Thy gentle care.

Our Father-Mother God, we know Thy door—
Thy light streams out across the welcoming sill;
And joyously we hear Thy loving voice,
Bidding the fury of the storm, Be still.

Oh, we would dwell forever in Thy house
To learn of Thee and find a sure release
From all temptation, every doubt and fear,
For in Thy beauteous household there is peace.

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