CAMP-MEETING AT OCEAN GROVE. 2? 3
If light grows dim, and sunshine cold
Wrapped in earth s murky air, I know the fault lies in the mist
The faithful sun is there
��CAMP-MEETING SUNDAY AT OCEAN GROVE.
FROM the bud of a cloud-calyxed midnight Comes the bloom of the clear Sunday morn, And the crown of the week, with hosannas In sun-lighted beauty is born.
I sit in the shaded Pavilion
That centres these homes by the sea,
In the city whose name tells its story Fair child of the wave and the tree.
I see the oaks standing about me,
God s sentinels, steady and true, Up-bearing their sky-rifted banners,
Where sunshine comes brokenly through.
I look up to pleasant roof-shadow,
Strong built, gainst the storm to defend
(It is good to look upward for shelter, Still upward, for aye, to the end).
I see a blue line over yonder,
That sends a salt kiss on the breeze,
And the sound of the sea, chanting softly, Comes echoing up to the trees. S