Untitled article by Mabel Earle

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Tacoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Feb 20, 1908

From the Shadow

By Mabel Earle

Thou on whose heart the night has drawn its gloom, Wouldst thou make dark the light of summer skies? Thou in the desert, grudgest thou the bloom Of the green pastures where thy brother lies? Thou in the silence, wouldst thou bar the room Of life's high temple filled with harmonies From those whose feet are entering?

Poor and low The grief which thrusts out hands of pleading so, Asking that all hearts ache with its one woe!

When that supremest hour of love and loss Swept up the skies and blotted out the sun, When earth's Creator hung upon the cross, What time his stripes our balm of healing won,— Though the far heavens were black, and hills and sea Shook in the horror of his agony,—

Somewhere on earth that self-same hour he saw Life's sweetness, in pure hearts of love flung wide; Life's crown, where brave hearts clung to love's high law Unfaltering — and he blessed them as he died.

Far out beyond the hills that shuddered dim, Somewhere he saw a little laughing child Clasped in its mother's arms, and blessed of him, Even through his anguish, as it clung and smiled.

Somewhere he saw a soul that spurned life's dross, A love that gave itself in willing loss; And on the circle of the darkening lands, While hell and heaven watched by Calvary, The lifting up of his high-priestly hands Blessed them, and all who laugh or mourn, and thee.

Thou in the anguish of thy lesser strife, Hast thou no love to clasp earth's farthest ken? Thou on thy Calvary of loss and life, Hast thou no blessing for thy brother- men? — Mabel Earle.