Poem June 7, 1947 Issue

After Our Lecture

ALMA LEAHY

Lord , once again the feast is past, but long
The strains of heavenly music fill the air.
For one brief hour so potent was the song
Of Truth and Love revealed as everywhere,
Upon the heights he dwells who, yearning, heard
The holy import of that precious word.

Lord, lead our messengers, we humbly pray.
For them no sacrifice too great to make
Of human comfort, that the light of day
May shine upon some heavy heart, or take
Its golden treasure to some lonely shore
Of pain or woe—and bless forevermore.