Poem February 22, 1941 Issue

"Why art thou cast down, O my soul?"

ESTELLA M. STETSON

I must resolve this doubt, this indecision,
That seems to cloud my concept of true being.
Whence comes it? Why am I so heavy-hearted?
It cannot be that aught of evil threatens,
For God made all; all is of His creating,
And all is good, hence error has no power,
No place, no slightest claim to any being.
Our God is One, omniscient, omnipresent,
omnipotent. He will not share His kingdom
With any discord; hence His children need not
Fear anything that was, or is, or can be;
No height, no depth, nor any earthly concept
Can separate us from the truth of being.
Come, put them out, and bring an end to fearing;
Dispel the discord, rise above the shadows
Of mortal doubts, and live within the blessed
And all-enfolding realm of God's creation,
Where man's dominion is a thing as certain
As light is certain, when the sun is shining,
Knowing God's man, true image and true likeness,
Our safe at-one-ness with the One eternal.