Poem February 4, 1939 Issue

Security

MARY WILLIS SHELBURNE

Although the path seems dark, the way obscure,
And great clouds stoop above me, threatening,
I need not fear these phantoms; safe and sure
I can walk onward, never wavering.
The way shows steep, and dangerously near
I sense the deep abyss; I cannot see
The needful steps to take, but I can hear
A voice behind me, speaking tenderly.

It calms the tempest, bids the wind be still,
And light gleams through the curtains of the rain;
Before me now the path is straight, the hill
Is smoothed, and I walk strong and free again.
So still, so small, yet silver-sweet and clear,
This is the way, walk in it—Love is here.