Poem March 22, 1947 Issue

Love's Present Hour

ESTELLA M. STETSON

Are there two robbers of mankind that stand
Unseen, by each of us, waiting to snatch
Our treasures from us? So it sometimes seems.
One might be called the future. He it is
That whispers, "Wait. Tomorrow. I am hope.
I counsel wisely. Bear the bitter cross.
Tomorrow holds the all of good for thee."

Beware this liar, who thus falsely claims
To be hope's likeness. "Now! Now is the time,
The only time," the prophet cries, and he
Knows well whereof he speaks. God has revealed
To us His presence now and here. O man,
Let not the future steal the present good,
Nor longer stay the journey into Truth.

The second robber might lie called the past.
He names himself despair, "It is no use,"
He says, "to try to rise above those things
That happened yesterday. You've lost the light.
So be resigned to evil as your lot."
Thus cries the robber-past, and reaches out
To snatch, as would the future, every joy
That is our heritage as child of God.

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Come into the Ark!
March 22, 1947
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