February 21

I cried unto Thee, O Lord. I said, Thou art my Refuge.

M Y sorrow had pierced me through, it throbbed in my heart like a thorn;

This way and that I stared, as a bird with a broken limb

Hearing the hound's strong feet thrust imminent through the corn,

So to my God I turned: and I had forgotten Him.

Into the night I breathed a prayer like a soaring fire;—

So to the wind-swept cliff the resonant rocket streams,

And it struck its mark, I know; for I felt my flying desire

Strain, like a rope drawn home, and catch in the land of dreams.

What was the answer? This—the horrible depth of night,

And deeper, as ever I peer, the huge cliff's mountainous shade,

While the frail boat cracks and grinds, and never a star in sight,

And the seething waves smite fiercer;—and yet I am not afraid.

ARTHUR

CHRIS-

TOPHER

BENSON

THE PLACE OF PEACE