Excerpt from The Fields of Peace, Poems and Ballads

The Mother went down daily TO the great white gates, Her wistful eyes turned eagerly adown the shining strand, Within her heart a mighty love, A love that sweetly waits, With meek and lowly patience on her blessed Lord's command.

The throngs of hovering spirits But newly come to rest Beneath the promised shadow of the Father's bound less love, Went by her, singing, onward To their avocations blest, From the peaceful groves Of Heaven never, never more to rove.

Oh, the fair, green plains of Heaven, Where the crystal waters ¿ow, Where the light that is not sunlight, Neither moon nor candle glow.

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