Poem August 31, 1940 Issue

Our Hymnal

EDITH SHAW BROWN

Because I know God's allness, I must sing.
There is no blinding grief, no harmful thing
That would belie the shelter of His wing,
Nor mar the beauty of Love's blossoming.
I can but sing.

No pain endures when gratitude in song
Annuls the claims of error's fancied throng;
How can I fear, or suffer any wrong,
When all God's gifts, which to His child belong,
I share in song?

Nor doubt nor loneliness can blight when praise
Affirms the power of Truth's healing rays;
Dear God, the heavenly goal before my gaze,
My hand in Thine, I scale the rugged ways
With hymns of praise.

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