(To Frances, my missionary daughter)
My dear, you take with you the golden seed
Of truth. Your vineyard is the waiting world.
Plant well that it may grow and fill the need
For harvest and drouth-barren fields be pearled
With dew from Heaven. May your soul be filled
With love for all God's children, and your voice
Be lifted that the tempests may be stilled
And seeking hearts, hearing His call, rejoice.
What joy to see your plantings bright with flower!
May little children love you ... and the old ...
Garner the beauty from each well-spent hour
Leading the meek to peace within His fold.
Chaste-sweet and humble, your faith shining-clear--
God's arm is long to reach to you, my dear.
