children.
_We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord!_

Our voices sink in silence and in night.
_Hear us, good Lord!_

In night, O God of a godless land!
_Amen!_

In silence, O Silent God.
_Selah!_




George Marion McClellan


DOGWOOD BLOSSOMS

To dreamy languors and the violet mist
Of early Spring, the deep sequestered vale
Gives first her paling-blue Miamimist,
Where blithely pours the cuckoo's annual tale
Of Summer promises and tender green,
Of a new life and beauty yet unseen.
The forest trees have yet a sighing mouth,
Where dying winds of March their branches swing,
While upward from the dreamy, sunny South,
A hand invisible leads on the Spring.