From The Times Dispatch, February 22, 1914. By Amanda B. Cordes.
Beyond the doubts, the anguish and the fears,
The wasted strength, the fever and distress,
Faith comes to me to bid me dry my tears,
And point my gaze to where the weary rest.
To where the shadows never more shall fall,
Nor coming storms blot out the smiling sun,
Where those who rise each day to bend and toil
Will find, at last, their tasks forever done.
Beneath the love-kissed skies Peace softly bends,
With hands outstretched to smile my grief away,
And through the lonely night her balm she sends
To lift my fainting heart until the day.
“A little while,” faith whispers in my ears,
“The way is not so very, very long.
A few more crosses and a few more tears,
And then the crown and everlasting song.”
I turn to clasp Faith’s hand once more in mine,
And lo, the path shows clearly through the night,
Touched by the glory of the distant clime
That waits me just beyond my raptured sight.