"Too long," I cried, "I cannot carry on;
'Is there no balm in Gilead' for me?"
Soft as a morning beam, the answer came:
A little bud without a sign of bloom
awakened sweet, angelic thoughts. I mused:
Impatient probing will not bring to view
the velvet petals or their rosy hue,
nor stir untimely fragrance. Yet I know
that from within unfolds a perfect rose.
Hushed were my foolish fears and thieving doubts
as reverently I glimpsed with speechless joy
my heritage of heavenly bliss within.
I breathed a grateful prayer; and then I felt
the healing power of all-embracing Love.
