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From the May 1933 issue of The Christian Science Journal

Within the hushed, dense darkness, where you stand, Lonely, afraid, with thought bowed to the grass; Blind to unceasing light throughout the land Until the conjurers of error pass, There is a gentle stir—softer than wings— A healing presence calls your name: Awake, O captive child of Zion! Hark! He sings Of high, immortal blessings you may take. The veil's aside.