Doris M Holden - Writings

Transcripts, manuscript and published versions

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TO EACH HIS VISION

I could not find Him where the vestured priests

Intoned the ancient ritual of prayer.

My neighbour bowed the knee,

And yet to me

He was not there.


I could not find Him where the bugles called

And men cried: " Hallelujah!" to the sky.

My neighbour sobbed His name—

To her He came

‘And passed me by.


Yet on a busy day when spring winds blew

My billowing linen to the bleaching sun,

‘That Man Who served with wood

So clearly stood,

‘Smiling: “ Well done!”


Any Notes on the Article or Story (If available)



Any available related correspondence, and versions for this piece are shown below:


Publication Reference details if known

The City Temple Tidings September 1937,  Also submitted Womans Magazine October 1936

  • My photo of original magazine cover

  • My photo of original magazine story

  • My photo of original magazine story

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