Poem August 1, 1953 Issue

WHEN THE MASTER CAME

Pierrepont E. Twitchell

We heard that he was coming. Word had spread
That it would not be very long. We knew
That in one village he had raised the dead—
That everywhere the sick and maimed were healed,
And even those possessed with devils, too.

And then he came! He cured the ones in pain,
Then to our hearts such blessed truths revealed
An inner joy we quickly came to learn.

Even the daily tasks of grinding grain,
The many journeys to the village well,
The gathering of grass and twigs to burn
To heat the oven for our daily bread,
Are filled with joy while we again retell
The loving things he did, the words he said.

Pierrepont E. Twitchell

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