Poem May 19, 1951 Issue

WITHIN HIS BRIGHT PAVILIONS

(Psalm 27)

Ruth King

When the lying tongues are striving
On the battlefield of fear,
When the thunderous charge of error
Tramples all I hold most dear,

When the blades of rumored evil
Sharpen on the stone of woe,
And the flaming spears of envy
Down despair's dark highway go,

Then within the bright pavilions
Of the Father's loving care
I will hide me, rest, refresh me,
Gaining strength again to dare.

Forth I'll go, as mists of anger
Vanish from the shining field,
Leaving only peaceful pathways,
Only hills of joy revealed.

Ruth King

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Editorial

"AS ONE HAVING AUTHORITY"

May 19, 1951

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