Poem September 4, 1948 Issue

THE LITTLE GRACES

Helen B. Phelps

I want to carry in my heart the light
Of little graces. Sweetly do they bring
The love of God to man, through man. They sing
Through all the years a comforting delight;
The bitter day by kindly act made right,
And wounded hearts that tenderness will wing
To health; courage and dauntlessness that fling
Color and brightness on a clouded night.

Here love is serving Love, so human woe
Finds God in little gifts, and He will show
His glory shadowed for the eye not strong,
His angels wait; to them no time is long,
The little graces take the weak in hand
And bring them gently to the promised land.

Helen B. Phelps

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