Poem February 12, 1949 Issue

BUILDING ANEW

Lillian M. Carter

Sometimes we stand amid the wreck of hope—
Our crumbled houses built upon the sand.
"Is this the end, this shattering?" we grope
With anguished hearts, and yearn to understand.
Then, as we wait, the bleak horizon scanning.
Comes, like a rush of wings, like tide winds blowing:
"There is a Power beyond our futile planning;
There is a Mind above our feeble knowing."

And now at Mind's directing do we build
On solid rock a temple strong and free.
Each stone is proved, each tiny niche is filled—
Wrought not for time, but for eternity.
As we progress, a new horizon scanning,
From hope to faith to revelation growing,
We find that power beyond all futile planning;
We prove that Mind above all human knowing.

Lillian M. Carter

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