Poem June 23, 1951 Issue

HOLY PURPOSE

Winifred Irene Earl

The year had reached its prime
As men count time.
I stood upon a summit vast—
A prospect past
All telling stretched away,
Unfolding to bright day
Infinity of bloom.
The sweet perfume
From countless tiny flowers
Pervaded all.

The hours
Slid by unheeded.
Each floweret needed!
Each child of God, complete,
Like heather bell so sweet,
Though seeming small,
Essential to supreme and infinite All!
So you and I—and all Mind's glorious whole—
Shall bloom, shine forth, reflect the reign of Soul.

Winifred Irene Earl

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THE SIMPLICITY OF REALITY
June 23, 1951
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