Margaret Junkin Preston

Pain is no longer pain when it is past.

The lotos bowed above the tide and dreamed.

White as the blossoms which the almond-tree, Above its bald and leafless branches bears.

With guilt's defilement stained without, within, How can I hope Thy cleansing grace to win? —Because Thou saidst, "I have forgiven thy sin."

[T]he pure memories given To help our joy on earth, when earth is past, Shall help our joy in heaven!

Gracious as sunshine, sweet as dew Shut in a lily's golden core.