21 FEBRUARY 1914, Page 20

POETRY.

IN KONTIBUS SA_NOTIS.

WHOM may we worship in this place divine ? Whom may we pray to in this heaven-built shrine? The torrent's murmur hallows all the air; The avalanche is as a call to prayer ; A wistful spirit in the forest sighs; Whom shall we call on, when our heart replies P I heard as 'twere a Voice that answered me: Fret not thyself, but let thy thought run free!

Seek not the holy word, the hallowed name !

Loose thy mind's pictures from the square-cut frame!

Full as the flower that opens to the light, Open thy soul, and take My gift—Delight !