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Love tends the garden of my mind
to bring to fruit still fragile buds
of faith, and charity that nods
gently to Spirit's gentle wind.
Love nudges out sin's noxious weeds,
which boast a false dominion there;
sees that no gate is left ajar
inviting predatory raids.
Love nurtures every sprig of hope
tending toward light; prunes away
aims threatening to reach awry,
that thought be trimmed to beauty's shape.
Love is a patient husbandman,
who works serenely to unfold
the vision, to my eyes yet veiled,
of man, His image and design.
Elna W. Hull
Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.
We are the children
Betty L. Boutilier
David Littlefield Horn
The singing prayer
A life of action
Nathan A. Talbot
Christmas and salvation
To be a child
Allison W. Phinney, Jr.
My friend George
Michael D. Rissler
Elna W. Hull
Kathryn Ann Kimbro
The last time I visited an optician was in 1969
Charles A. Phelps with contributions from Bernice T. Phelps
During my sophomore year in high school, the bottom of one...
David Allen Foltz
The importance of the "Daily Prayer" in the Manual of The Mother Church...
Eve McVeagh Gordon with contributions from David L. Cole
At one point I would gladly have given all I had or hoped to...
Robert H. McCrea