January 12

IN pastures green? Not always; sometimes He Who knoweth best, in kindness leadeth me By weary ways, where heavy shadows be.

And by still waters? No, not always so; Oft-times the heavy tempests round me blow, And o'er my soul the waves and billows go.

But when the storm is loudest, and I cry Aloud for help, the Master standeth by And whispers to my soul, "Lo, it is I."

Above the tempest wild I hear Him say, "Beyond this darkness lies the perfect day, In every path of thine I lead the way."

So, whether on the hill-tops high and fair I dwell, or in the sunless valleys where The shadows lie—what matter? He is there.

HENRY H. BARRY

WINTER