Poem January 13, 1951 Issue

SOLOIST

Estelle Dale

The sound soars high!
Let it awake the heavens, O Father God,
Silence the lark, outstrip the eagle's flight,
Run with the winds above the shades of earth,
Ride sweetly by.

The sound rings wide!
Take it to all the world, O Father God,
From my glad heart, made holy in Thine own,
From my true being, happy in Thyself.
All sense denied.

The sound is gone!
There was no rhythm in the vibrant tone,
There was no power in the measured word,
Only the gentle wonder of Thy love
Within me pulsing.
But in Truth's one voice
The song lives on.

Estelle Dale

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