THE WATCH

Like some sleep-fighting child, I cling to fear,With rest more close than hand-reach at my willOnly by bidding pain-nagged sense be still,Grasping the far-sought gift that lies so near.

The chariots of Elijah on the hillFlick rainbow points across my tear-filled eyes.Why should I wait to face that glad surprise,Although the enemy at the gate is shrill?

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Editorial
THE TWO GREAT COMMANDMENTS
July 31, 1948
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