Poem by Mary Baker Eddy
Music by April Brahinsky
It matters not what be thy lot,
So Love doth guide;
For storm or shine, pure peace is thine,
And of these stones, or tyrants’ thrones,
God able is
To raise up seed—in thought and deed—
To faithful His.
Aye, darkling sense, arise, go hence!
Our God is good.
False fears are foes—truth tatters those,
Love looseth thee, and lifteth me,
Ayont hate’s thrall:
There Life is light, and wisdom might,
And God is All.
The centuries break, the earthbound wake,
Who doth His will—His likeness still—
Words used courtesy of The Mary Baker Eddy Collection