Before the Truth was Known.
The wind is sighing through the leaves
An autumn wind;
It speaks to me of life's regret
Of hopes unreached, but longed-for yet,
Ungarnered sheaves.
The wind is moaning from the sea.
A winter blast:
Of wounded life.— a broken heart
Where joy and love have played their part,—
It tells to me.
The wind is crying in the night
A hopeless voice:
Poor souls who sail to win the day,
But feebly falter on life's way
And shun the fight.
After Hearing the Glad Tidings of Christian Science.
The wind is whispering o'er the lea,
A cooling breeze;
It speaks of hope and freshening showers.
Of love and joy that's always ours;
It strengthens me.
O winds that sweep the earth and sky
With rushing power;
O winds with voices manifold.
Speak as ye did to prophets old,
Of God most High.
And hasting on with mighty breath
And thunderous blast,
Go ye and bear God's message out
Into the region round about,
And vanquish death.
