Poem November 22, 1941 Issue

Comfort

LAURA BROWN CROWELL

Rejoice, dear heart, the winds of God are blowing
The chaff of error from the face of earth;
Be grateful now that human thought is knowing
The might of courage and the weight of worth.
The conflict rages; yea, its battle cry
Has called each one to answer by his name,
And they who stand upon the Lord's right hand
Shall know no fear, nor suffer any shame.
Let evil bluster—its reverse is true;
In this dark hour the Christ is very nigh.
There is the word of Truth to comfort you:
Where two or three are gathered, there am I.

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