Nothing before, nothing behind; The steps of faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.

Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace.

A charmed life old goodness hath; the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.

For still the new transcends the old In signs and tokens manifold; Slaves rise up men; the olive waves, With roots deep set in battle graves!

Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed trust my spirit clings; I know that God is good!

I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.

Peace hath higher tests of manhood, than battle ever knew.