Poem September 11, 1943 Issue

The Temple

DOROTHEA STURDIVANT FAGAN

There is a holy place of rest where, entering in,
We may unclasp the hold of earth's despair,
A secret place wherein pure peace abides—
The temple of the inward heart of prayer.

Here angel thoughts appear, to heal and bless;
Divine communion brings renewal sweet;
Here burdens fall until, unshackled, free,
We walk the upward way with winged feet.

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