p. 1 | Loving Words by L. D. SANTEE

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D. C. · Nov 30, 1905

Loving Words

By L. D. SANTEE

L. D. SANTEE

THERE'S a peace, if we will but discern it, That comes from the Father above; There's a joy, if our lips will but learn it, In speaking the language of love; The fragrance of kindness and pity Is found where love's banners are furled; They came from the jasper-walled city, To lighten the heart of the world.

When we yield to the flashing of temper, And our cruel words cut like a knife, We darken the wearisome hours Of this troubled and pitiful life; And heads that are gray with life's ashes, And feet that are palsied and slow, Are carrying heavier burdens, That we, in our anger, bestow.

Too late—when the tired hands are folded, And the life-giving spirit has fled; No use to bring violets and roses To garland the forms of the dead. The chance to retrace cometh never, Though our faces with tear-drops are wet; The old life has vanished forever, And leaves unavailing regret.

Let us bathe, with the balm of contrition, The wounds that our anger has made; Let love fill the heart with its sunshine, While yet the keen sickle is stayed; Let our flowers fill the hands of the living, And their fragrance, the bosoms that yearn; And the joy that we felt in the giving, Our Father to us will return.

Moline, Ill.