Poem June 1, 1940 Issue

How Clear the Light!

MARY F. KINGSTON

How clear the light
When darksome mists have fled,
And all about me
Love's bright beam is shed!
'Tis then I glimpse
The Father's face,
And trustingly rely
Upon His grace.

Though erstwhile erstwhile clouds
May baffle mortal sense,
Man's undimmed eyes
Behold omnipotence;
And in His light
Dream shadows lose their power—
Then healings comes
To bless this instant hour.

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