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[Written for the Journal]


From the November 1930 issue of The Christian Science Journal

O Love, the votive candle of my heart I light for Thee alone, And though, sometimes, its eager flame be blown By error's gusts, I know Thy shining peace Will kindle it, and winds and darkness cease. O Life, the ripest offerings of my days I bring to Thee alone, And though, sometimes, these glowing gifts be sown With cold time's mortal dust, I do not fear, Knowing the breath of Being fans them clear.