161

date: 1937-11-18

names-on-the-page: Pearl Curran, Harriet Potter Munroe

transcription: November 18th, 1937.

The following record of the meeting of the Query Quest Club at Santa
Monica, was the last record to a group Pearl Curran made before her
death. The following Thursday (Thanksgiving Day) November 25th,
1937 she caught cold, pneumonia developed and on Friday December 3rd,
she passed away.

On Thanksgiving Day, she wrote a poem - her last writing.

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Query Quest Club of Santa Monica, Thursday November 18, 1937.
Something was asked for the chairman of this group, Harriet
Potter Munroe.

Mrs. Munroe speaks:

"I have beheld Springs which bled such scarlet drops that the new
bespurted blooms were blurred; and I have known Winters which
seemed a bower o' blossoms, for my heart wert leapin' wi' happiness.
I have surrendered both tears and happiness and trodden arid wastes
wherein my weary flesh seemed to lag and my spirit fly before cir-
cling the very heights that it might find freedom. Aye, I have
then stood looking all ways waiting the sure coming sun wi' faith
in my heart and mute lips, through which the cry of sorrow had be-
come uttered but to silence in the weight o' agony's burden. But
now I am triumphant, for I have learned the wisdom of waiting' and
fulfillment; that my hands may light the taper o' each dark day -
that my fellows may find their tedious ways be-cleared - be enough
of God of the East, the West, the North and the South. For the
Great God is the God of all ways and kinds - He be not an absolute
but a fluid God - a state of ever being, not of beginning or ending.
I have learned that each day revealeth Him nearer, through the con-
sciousness o' my own spirit. Yea, I have stumbled o'er my fellows
and fallen prone in flesh mayhap, but ne'er hath my spirit been less
than proud of its kinship with the Kingship."

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The topic "Rain" was here suggested:

"The sky bendeth down that it kiss the sacred sod,
Aye, 'tis like as though the tears o' God fell swift and soft
caressing 'pon the land - 'Tis rain ye say?
Aye that ever sup the great God gave as His most boundless grace -
The tears that must to flow them o'er his awesome face to later
fall and rest to then become and resurrect that newer Springs may
be. Aye, 'til HE who doth to grace us so
That we His lawless, Judgeless lo'e may know.

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Comment on Santa Monica:

"She a ladye fair wi' jewels in her hair lies at rest aside the sea,
Loved o' its endless lisping tide. ,
Kissed aye, then embraced i' truth
The sea's most beauteous bride.

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