Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/236

Rh Yet, Thou forgettest all, Father above. Remembering nought but Thine infinite love: Stretching those wounded Hands out to our aid; Telling us tenderly, “Be not afraid!” Ready to help us, if only we call — Nothing too weak for kneel nothing too small; Ready to hear, when we kneel on the sod; Thou our Redeemer, our Father, our God!