Books by Mary Baker Eddy

page 859


Tis borne on the zephyr at eventide's
It falls on the heart like the dew
     on the flower, - 
An infinite essence from tropic to pole,
The promise, the home, and the heaven
     of Soul.

Hope happifies life, at the altar or bower,
And loosens the fetters of pride and of power;
It comes through our tears, as the soft
     summer rain,
To beautify, bless, and make joyful again.

The harp of the minstrel, the treasure of time;
A rainbow of rapture, o'erarching, divine;
The God-given mandate that speaks from
     above, - 
No place for earth's idols, but hope thou, and

PO 46

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