Yet in the sweet “Communion of the Saints”

| feel your presence very close indeed.

i think your dear compassion wrapped me round When the sword pierced my heart,

And all the world turned dark with bitterness and grief, Even as I begged mercy on your soul.

Sleep brave young soldier on the Road to Rome, The Holy City that you did not reach

Shall surely be redeemed, while you have passed on To an even fairer, holier land.

Ever within our hearts shall glow

The memory of your ”greater love”

Fighting a pathway through the gloom ahead.

(Written by Mrs. Josephine MacDonald, his Mother)

LlFE’S WEAVING

My life is but a weaving Between my God and me; I may not choose the colours, He knows what they should be For He can view the pattern Upon the'upper side, While I can see it only On this, the under side.

Some-times He weaveth sorrow Which seemeth strange to me; But l will trust His judgement, And work on faithfully; Tis he who fills the shuttle, He knows just what is best; Sol Shall weave in earnest And leave Him with the rest.

At last, when life is ended, With Him I shall abide, Then I may view the pattern Upon the upper side; Then I shall know the reason Why pain with joy entwined, Was woven in the fabric Of life that God designed.

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