How often, when the storm was fierce,
My path was dreary, and the thorns did pierce,
I paused, and heeding this divine command,
Beheld sweet roses blooming 'mid the sand.
How often, when I long for rest,
Borne down by toil and care,
I wake to find myself most blest,
God's happy child and heir;
To find that good doth ceaseless flow
To those who heed "Be still, and know."
Poems
[Written for the Journal]
"BE STILL, AND KNOW"
From the July 1913 issue of The Christian Science Journal
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