Glory Through Humility

Although the snowdrop is so slight, so frail,It pierces through the winter's stubborn soil.The supple reed, by bending, beats the gale.The humble aim no foe can ever foil.

Not in the pomp and pageantry of pride,Not through ambition climbing social rungs,Can victory walk ever at our sideOr speak in burning Pentecostal tongues.

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A Right Sense of Being
May 24, 1947
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