I had not known such beauty could be hidden Within the shelter of a word's embrace Until I stood beside hope's ash-gray embers And prayed to know the perfectness of grace. I saw a grace expressed in grassy meadows, In rain-swept hill, in budding boughs of spring; In native instinct of the homing swallows; In countless feathered lyrists' caroling.
Log in to read this article
Not a subscriber to JSH-Online? Subscribe today and receive online access to The Christian Science Journal, Sentinel, and Herald including digital editions of the print periodicals, Web original articles, blogs, and podcasts, over 30,000 minutes of Sentinel Radio and audio chats, searchable archive going back to 1883! Learn More.