How fortunate are we having found The secret of the mystery of life, Not far in some Elysium's sacred ground But on this earth amongst the pain and strife.
The failures and successes we have known The death of the beloved, the wounds we share Through which the silent soul in us has grown To heights by slow degrees become aware
That earth is destined as the promised home Of a Presence Divine who seems to us apart From the violence of man who would Him shun And yet we all are sculpted by His art.
Can we begin the journey into Light Forsake the darkness and deny the night.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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