Poem April 23, 1938 Issue

What Is Love?

ESTELLA M. STETSON

What is love? I wish that I might know
The answer in its sweet entirety.
Like truth, it is a simple, gracious thing;
And yet, like truth, it cannot be defined
In words that reach the clouded human mind.
The little child knows love—and he who said,
Except ye be as children, knew it too.
It is security amidst the storms of earth,
Warmth and protection, when no warmth is seen
By human eye, when cold about us blow
The bitter winds of winter. It is light
When clouds seem heaviest, in darkest night;
Calmness, when all about are wild alarms;
Strength and endurance far beyond belief;
A sure and certain knowledge of the good
That always has been, and must always be.
This and much more love is. We rise above
The mists of earth to find that God is Love—
God the great All-in-all, the infinite,
Omnipotence eternal, the I AM,
Whose likeness is and always has been man,
God's perfect man, the man the Master saw,
And seeing, brought release from earth-born woe,
Marking the path where we may safely go.
The path of Love—when this we clearly see,
Lovely and loving we shall surely be.

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April 23, 1938
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