February 3
Companions of the Way (Evening)If I make my bed in Hell, behold Thou art there.
"FATHER of all!" he urges his strong plea, "Thou lovest all: Thy erring child may be Lost to himself, but never lost to Thee!
All souls are Thine; the wings of morning bear None from that Presence which is everywhere, Nor Hell itself can hide, for Thou art there.
Through sins of sense, perversities of will, Through doubt and pain, through guilt and shame and ill, Thy pitying eye is on Thy creature still.
Wilt Thou not make, Eternal Source and Goal! In Thy long years, life's broken circle whole, And change to praise the cry of a lost soul?"
J. G. WHITTIER
SLEEP