Poem on Human Love

I had a tiny box, a precious box

Of human love–my spikenard of great price;

I kept it close within my heart of hearts.

And scarce would lift the lid lest it should waste

Its perfume on the air. One day a strange

Deep sorrow came with crushing weight, and fell

Upon my costly treasure, sweet and rare,

And broke the box to atoms. All my heart

Rose in dismay and sorrow at this waste,

But as I mourned, behold a miracle

Of grace Divine. My human love was changed

To Heaven’s own, and poured in healing streams

On other broken hearts, while soft and clear

A voice above me whispered, “Child of Mine,

With comfort wherewith thou art comforted,

From this time forth, go comfort others,

 And thou shalt know blest fellowship with Me,

Whose broken heart of love hath healed the world.”

(From Streams in the Desert)

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