The Practitioner

I love the gentle countenance
That shines with purest joy and peace,
Which find reflection in my own
And bid the tumult cease.

I love the softly spoken word
Which lifts the meek, receptive thought
Up to the altar where are laid
The precious gifts the Christ has brought.

I love the ever-willing step,
Which slows or quickens in its stride
To be at hand when need is most
And guide my feet straight to His side.

I love the patient, outstretched hands
Which reach with firm, unyielding power
Each pilgrim who would ford the stream
And scale the heavenly tower.

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Signs of the Times
April 26, 1947

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