Poem September 13, 1952 Issue

HARVEST CALL

Edith Coonley Howes

God's sowers see the fields as white,
Though shadowed through the depth of night.
All nature knows the growing thing
Before our claiming of the spring.
Each moment holds a harvest time
That waits nor day, nor hour, nor clime.
Then joyously Mind's sickle swing
In Love's eternal garnering.

Edith Coonley Howes

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THE CHRIST IDEALISM
September 13, 1952
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