POEMS OF DAWN
"A bending staff I would not break,
A feeble faith I would not shake,
Nor even rudely pluck away
The error which some truth may stay,
Whose sudden loss might leave without
A shield against the shafts of doubt."
The Household of Faith
"Brethren, giving all diligence, add to your faith
virtue (steadfastness); and to virtue knowledge;
and to knowledge temperance (self-control);
and to temperance patience; and to
patience godliness; and to godliness
brotherly kindness; and
to brotherly kindness
For if these things
be in you and abound,
they shall make you that you
shall neither be barren nor unfruitful in the
knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ."—2 Pet. 1:5-8.
POEMS OF DAWN.
THE WORD OF TRUTH
THE Word of Truth is like a stained-glass window rare,
We stand outside and gaze, but see no beauty there,
No fair design, naught but confusion we behold;
'Tis only from within the glory will unfold,
And he who would drink in the rapture of the view
Must climb the winding stair, the portal enter through.
The sacred door of Truth's cathedral is most low,
And all who fain would enter there the knee must bow
In deep humility. But once inside, the light
Of day streams through and makes each color heavenly bright,
The Master's great design we see, our hands we raise
In reverent ecstasy of wonder, love and praise!
BUILD thee more stately mansions, O my soul,
As the swift seasons roll!
Leave thy low vaulted past!
Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea.
THE WORD OF GOD.
OH, wonderful, wonderful Word of the Lord!
True wisdom its pages unfold;
And though we may read them a thousand times o'er,
They never, no never, grow old!
Each line hath a pleasure, each promise a pearl,
That all if they will may secure;
And we know that when time and the world pass away,
God's Word shall forever endure.
Oh, wonderful, wonderful Word of the Lord!
The lamp that our Father above
So kindly hath lighted to teach us the way
That leads to the arms of His love!
Its warnings, its counsels, are faithful and just;
Its judgments are perfect and pure;
And we know that when time and the world pass away,
God's Word shall forever endure.
Oh, wonderful, wonderful Word of the Lord!
Our only salvation is there;
It carries conviction down deep in the heart,
And shows us ourselves as we are.
It tells of a Savior, and points to the cross,
Where pardon we now may secure;
And we know that when time and the world pass away
God's Word shall forever endure.
HOW READEST THOU?
Another thing to read, to learn and do;
'Tis one thing now to read it with delight,
And quite another thing to read it right.
Some read to prove a pre-adopted creed,
Thus understand but little what they read;
And every passage in the Book they bend
To make it suit that all-important end.
Some people read, as I have often thought,
To teach the Book, instead of to be taught.
THE OATH-CLAD PROMISE—THE GOSPEL
FROM the Scriptures of truth this conclusion we draw,
—2 Tim. 3:16; John 17:17.
That the wisdom of men nor the works of the Law
—1 Cor. 1:19; Isa. 5:21; Rom. 3:20.
Have the power to cleanse, nor forgive, nor to save,
—Rom. 10:4; Heb. 7:19.
Nor restore from the curse, nor redeem from the grave.
—Gal. 3:21; Gal. 2:16,21.
Men are saved by their faith in the Crucified One,
—Rom. 10:9; Acts 16:31; Heb. 11:6.
When His love and His goodness to them are made known.
—Rom. 10:13-15; 1 Cor. 1:21; John 3:18; 1 Tim. 2:3-6.
Saving faith comes by hearing the life-giving Word,
—Rom. 10:17; Phil. 2:16.
And the mercy of God through the Savior conferred.
—2 Cor. 5:19; 1 Tim. 2:3-6.
All who will may be saved by obedient faith,
—John 3:18; Rev. 22:14-17.
And may gain life unending through Christ, by His death.
For the Gospel salvation to all is made free:
As they heed its instruction their judgment will be.
—Rom. 2:16; John 3:18.
Endless life is for those who the Gospel accept,
—John 3:16; Mark 10:30; Rom. 6:23.
But death is the portion of those who reject.
—Acts 3:23; Heb. 10:26,27; Rom. 6:23.
For there's no other way that's revealed by the Lord
—Acts 4:12; John 14:6.
To redeem fallen man but through Christ and His Word.
—Titus 2:13,14; Gal. 3:13.
"The heavens are the Lord's, but the earth He hath given
—Psa. 115:16; Isa. 45:18.
To the children of men," as their home and their heaven.
—Psa. 37:29; Matt. 6:10.
Wicked rulers and nations thus far have borne sway
—Dan. 2; 2 Tim. 3:13; Isa. 60:2.
And their reign has led down from the gold to the clay.
But the Age for the world's promised blessing is near,
—Gen. 12:3; Gen. 22:18; Psa. 72:17; Rev. 15:4.
When the true Light that lighteth all men shall appear.
—John 1:4,7,9; John 8:12; Dan. 2:44.
God has been taking out from the world for His name
—Acts 15:14; Rev. 5:9,10.
Those sleeping in Christ from the dead will arise,
—1 Cor. 15:23,52.
And with "those who remain" meet the Lord of the skies,
—1 Thess. 4:16,17; Mark 13:27.
Who will come to the earth with His chosen again,
—Zech. 14:4,5; 1 Thess. 3:13; Jude 14.
And over the nations commence His just reign.
—Matt. 25:31,32; Luke 1:32,33; Isa. 2:3; Isa. 9:6,7.
As a Body perfected the "seed" will then bless
—1 Cor. 12:27; Col. 1:18; Gen. 22:18.
All the peoples of earth with the blessings of peace.
—Gal. 3:8,16,29; Luke 2:10,14.
These elect ones with Christ shall forever abide,
—1 Thess. 4:17.
As His loved and honored and glorified Bride.
—John 3:29; Matt. 25:1; Rom. 7:17,18.
All the powers of earth to an end shall be brought,
—Psa. 10; Rev. 2:26,27; Jer. 25:29,33.
And their rule and authority soon come to naught.
—1 Cor. 15:24; Phi. 2:10.
All their glory and pride like the chaff pass away,
And Christ and His chosen in mercy bear sway.
—Dan. 7:27; Psa. 22:27,28; Luke 22:29,30; Luke 19:17.
When He speaks to the earth she uncovers her slain,
—Isa. 26:19,21; Hosea 13:14.
And they all hear His voice and to life rise again.
—John 5:28; 1 Cor. 15:22.
He must reign till all things unto Him are subdued,
—1 Cor. 15:25,28; 2 Cor. 5:19.
And the face of the earth from the curse is renewed.
—Rev. 22:3; Rev. 21:5.
These times of refreshing and blessing are near,
—Acts 3:19,21; Matt. 24:33.
Christ's life-giving power will shortly appear.
—Col. 3:3,4; Mark 10:30; John 11:25; Matt. 28:18.
He will banish the curse and perfection restore,
—Psa. 104:30; Rev. 22:3.
And the earth fill with gladness and beauty once more.
—Isa. 35; Isa. 55:10,13.
Then sorrow and death and corruption will cease,
And the world shall be clothed in the garments of peace.
—Zech. 9:10; Isa. 2:4.
When He rules in the earth the glad tidings are heard,
—Psa. 22:28; Isa. 45:23; Acts 15:16,17; 1 Tim. 2:6.
And the world shall remember and turn to the Lord.
All nations shall worship the Lord then with fear,
—Psa. 86:9; Rev. 15:4; Psa. 67:4.
And all men join in praise when His words they shall hear.
—Rev. 5:13; Psa. 102:15.
When the Spirit of grace rests on Israel again,
—Rom. 11:26; Jer. 32:40.
And they look upon Him whom in wrath they had slain,
—Zech. 12:10; Acts 2:23,36.
They will bitterly mourn and acknowledge their sin,
—Ezek. 36:31; Ezek. 16:61,63.
And gladly accept Him, their long-looked-for King.
—Isa. 25:9; Matt. 23:39; Luke 3:15.
Then the promised possession the Lord will restore,
—Ezek. 36:24; Ezek. 37:21; Jer. 32:37.
And their numerous sins He'll remember no more.
—Jer. 31:33,34; Ezek. 36:33; Rom. 11:27.
Jerusalem will, with the Lord as its Light,
—Acts 15:15,16; Zech. 6:12,13; Isa. 40:10-20; Isa. 33:20.
Be the glory of earth and its joy and delight.
—Isa. 52:9,10; Isa. 65:18,19; Psa. 48:2.
From this City most glorious life's waters shall flow,
—Zech. 14:8; Joel 3:18; Rev. 22:1.
And the life-giving trees on its borders shall grow.
—Ezek. 47:1,12; Rev. 22:1,2; Rev.2:7.
As the curse is removed this blest City of love
—Rev. 22:3; Rev. 20:9.
Is enlarged and made one with the City above.
—Rev. 21:10; Dan. 2:35,44.
All honor and glory to God shall be given,
—Num. 14:21; Rev. 5:12.
And His will on the earth will be done as in heaven.
THE TRUE CHURCH.
ONE Sabbath morn I roamed astray,
And asked a Pilgrim for the way:
"O, tell me, whither shall I search,
That I may find the one true Church?"
He answered, "Search the world around;
The one true Church is never found.
Yon ivy on the abbey wall
Makes fair the falsest Church of all."
But, fearing he had told me wrong,
I cried, "Behold the entering throng!"
He answered, "If a Church be true,
It hath not many, but a few!"
Around a font the people pressed,
And crossed themselves on brow and breast.
"A cross so light to bear," he cried,
"Is not of Christ, the Crucified!
Each forehead, frowning, sheds it off:
Christ's cross abides through scowl and scoff!"
We entered at the open door,
And saw men kneeling on the floor;
Faint candle, by the daylight dimmed,
As if by foolish virgins trimmed;
Fair statues of the saints, as white
As now their robes are, in God's sight;
Stained windows, casting down a beam,
Like Jacob's ladder in the dream.
The Pilgrim gazed from nave to roof,
And, frowning, uttered this reproof:
"Alas! who is it that understands
God's Temple is not made with hands?"
We walked in ferns so wet with dew
They plashed our garments trailing through,
And came upon a church whose dome
Upheld a cross, but not for Rome.
We brushed a cobweb from a pane,
And watched the service in the fane.
"Do prayers," he asked, "the more avail,
If offered at an altar rail?
Does water sprinkled from a bowl,
Wash any sin from any soul?
Do tongues that taste the bread and wine
Speak truer after such a sign?"
Just then, upon a maple spray,
Two orioles perched, and piped a lay,
Until the gold beneath their throats
Shook molten in their mellow notes.
Resounding from the church, a psalm
Rolled, quivering, through the outer calm.
"Both choirs," said I, "are in accord,
For both give praises to the Lord."
"The birds," he answered, "chant a song
Without a note of sin or wrong:
The church's anthem is a strain
Of human guilt and mortal pain."
The orioles and the organ ceased,
And in the pulpit rose the priest.
The Pilgrim whispered in my ear,
"It profits not to tarry here."
"He speaks no error," answered I,
"He teaches that the living die;
The dead arise; and both are true;
Both wholesome doctrines; neither new."
The Pilgrim said, "He strikes a blow
At wrongs that perished long ago;
But covers with a shielding phrase
The living sins of present days."
We turned away among the tombs—
A tangled place of briers and blooms.
I spelled the legends on the stones:
Beneath reposed the martyrs' bones,
The bodies which the rack once brake
In witness for the dear Lord's sake,
The ashes gathered from the pyres
Of saints whose zeal our soul inspires.
The Pilgrim murmured as we passed,
"So gained they all the crown at last.
Men lose it now through looking back,
To find it at the stake, the rack;
The rack and stake are old with grime;
God's touchstone is the living time!"
We passed where poplars, gaunt and tall,
Let twice their length of shadow fall.
Then rose a meeting-house in view,
Of bleached and weather-beaten hue.
Men, plain of garb and pure of heart,
Divided church and world apart.
Nor did they vex the silent air
With any sound of hymn or prayer.
God's finger to their lips they pressed,
Till each man kissed it and was blessed.
I asked, "Is this the true Church, then?"
He answered, "Nay, a sect of men:
And sects that shut their doors in pride
Shut God and half His saints outside.
The gates of Heaven, the Scriptures say,
Stand open wide, by night and day.
So, then, to enter, is there need
To carry key of church or creed?"
Still following where the highway led,
Till elms made arches overhead,
We saw a spire and weathercock,
And snow-white church upon a rock—
A rock, where centuries before,
Came sea-tossed pilgrims to the shore.
My sandals straightway I unbound,
Because the place was holy ground.
I cried, "One church at last I find,
That fetters not the human mind."
"This church," said he, "is like the rest;
For all are good, but none is best."
Then far from every church we strayed—
Save Nature's pillared aisles of shade.
The squirrels ran to see us pass,
And God's sweet breath was on the grass.
I challenged all the creeds, and sought
What truth, or lie, or both, they taught.
I asked, "Had Augustine a fault?"
The Pilgrim gazed at heaven's high vault,
And answered, "Can a mortal eye
Contain the sphere of all the sky?"
I said, "The circle is too wide."
"God's truth is wider!" he replied.
"Though Augustine was on his knee,
He saw how little he could see;
Though Luther sought with burning heart,
He caught the glory but in part;
Though Calvin opened wide his soul,
He comprehended not the whole.
Not Luther, Calvin, Augustine,
Saw visions such as I have seen."
While yet he spake, a rapture stole
Through all my still inquiring soul.
I looked upon His holy brow,
Entreating, "Tell me, who art THOU?"
But such a splendor filled the place,
I knew it was the Lord's own face!
I was a sinner, and afraid!
I knelt in dust, and thus I prayed:
"O Christ, the Lord! end Thou my search,
And lead me to the one true Church."
He spake as never man may speak—
"The one true Church thou shalt not seek,
THE NOMINAL CHURCH.
THE Church and the World walked far apart
On the changing shores of time;
The World was singing a giddy song,
And the Church a hymn sublime.
"Come, give me your hand," said the merry World,
"And walk with me this way;"
But the good Church hid her snowy hands
And solemnly answered, "Nay,
I will not give you my hand at all,
And I will not walk with you;
Your way is the way that leads to death;
To my Lord I must be true."
"Nay, walk with me but a little space,"
Said the World, with a kindly air,
"The road I walk is a pleasant road,
And the sun shines always there;
Your path is thorny and rough and rude,
But mine is broad and plain;
My way is paved with flowers and dews,
And yours with tears and pain;
The sky to me is always blue,
No want, no toil I know;
The sky above you is always dark,
Your lot is a lot of woe;
Half shyly the Church approached the World
And gave him her hand of snow;
And the old World clasped it and walked along,
Saying in accents low,
"Your dress is too simple to please my taste,
I will give you pearls to wear,
Rich velvets and silks for your graceful form,
And diamonds to deck your hair."
The Church looked down at her plain white robes
And then at the dazzling World,
And blushed as she saw his handsome lip
With a smile contemptuous curled.
"I will change my dress for a costlier one,"
Said the Church with a smile of grace;
Then her pure, white garments drifted away,
And the World gave, in their place,
Beautiful satins and shining silks,
Roses and gems and pearls;
While over her forehead her bright hair fell
Crimped in a thousand curls.
"Your house is too plain," said the proud old World,
"I'll build you one like mine;
Carpets of Brussels and curtains of lace,
And furniture ever so fine."
So he built her a costly and beautiful house,
Most splendid it was to behold;
Her sons and her beautiful daughters dwelt there,
Gleaming in purple and gold;
Rich fairs and shows in the halls were held,
And the World and his children were there;
Laughter and music and feasting were heard
In the place that was meant for prayer.
There were cushioned pews for the rich and gay,
To sit in their pomp and pride;
While the poor, who were clad in shabby array,
But seldom came inside.
"You give too much to the poor," said the World,
"Far more than you ought to do;
If they are in need of shelter and food,
Why need it trouble you?
Go, take your money, and buy rich robes,
Buy horses and carriages fine,
Buy pearls and jewels and dainty food,
Buy the rarest and costliest wine;
My children dote on all these things,
And if you their love would win,
You must do as they do, and walk in the ways
That they are walking in."
Then the Church held fast the strings of her purse,
And modestly lowered her head,
And simpered, "No doubt you are right, sir;
Henceforth I will do as you've said."
Then the sons of the World and the sons of the Church
Walked closely, hand and heart,
And only the Master, who knoweth all,
Could tell the two apart.
Then the Church sat down at her ease and said,
"I am rich and my goods are increased;
I have need of nothing, nor aught to do,
But to laugh, and dance, and feast."
The sly World heard, and he laughed in his sleeve,
And mockingly said aside,
"The Church is fallen, the beautiful Church,
And her shame is her boast and pride."
The angel drew near to the mercy-seat,
And whispered in sighs her name,
Then the loud anthems of rapture were hushed,
And heads were covered with shame.
And a voice was heard at last by the Church
From Him who sat on the Throne,
"I know thy works, and how thou hast said,
'I am rich'; and hast not known
That thou art naked, poor and blind,
And wretched before My face;
Therefore, from My presence, I cast thee out,
And blot thy name from its place."
TELL ME ABOUT THE MASTER.
TELL me about the Master!
I am weary and worn tonight;
The day lies behind me in shadow,
And only the evening is light!
Light with a radiant glory
That lingers about the west.
My poor heart is weary, aweary,
And longs, like a child, for rest.
Tell me about the Master!
Of the hills He in loneliness trod,
When the tears and blood of His anguish,
Dropped down on Judea's sod.
For to me life's seventy mile-stones
But a sorrowful journey mark;
Rough lies the hill country before me,
The mountains behind me are dark.
Tell me about the Master!
Of the wrongs He freely forgave;
Of His love and tender compassion,
Of His love that is mighty to save;
For my heart is aweary, aweary,
Of the woes and temptations of life,
Of the error that stalks in the noonday,
Of falsehood and malice and strife.
CHRIST, ALL IN ALL
IN Christ all fulness dwells: from Him proceeds
All that fall'n man, poor, wretched, guilty, needs.
In Him the contrite, bruised in spirit, find
Whate'er can heal the sorrows of the mind—
Forgiving love, that saves from blank despair,
Rich grace, that banishes each anxious care,
Soft pity, that relieves the bursting sigh,
And truth, revealing joys that never die.
Thrice happy they, who to His word attend,
His favor seek, and on His strength depend.
'Tis theirs to know His heart-consoling voice,
To share His smile, and in His name rejoice.
To them, reclaimed in mercy from the fall
And heav'nward marching, Christ is all in all:
In want, their treasure—in distress, their stay—
In gloom, their day-spring—vigor, in decay—
'Mid foes, their guard—in solitude, their guest—
In storms, their hiding place—in toils, their rest—
In bonds, their freedom—their relief, in pain—
In life, their glory—and in all things, gain.
LET NOT DOUBTS O'ERWHELM.
CHRIST, OUR TEACHER.
NOT I, BUT CHRIST.
TO JESUS ALWAYS.
I ALWAYS go to Jesus,
When troubled or distressed;
I always find a refuge
When I with Him can rest.
I tell Him all my trials,
I tell Him all my grief;
And while my lips are speaking
He gives my heart relief.
When full of dread forebodings,
And flowing o'er with tears,
He calms alway my sorrows,
And hushes all my fears.
He comprehends my weakness,
The peril I am in,
And He supplies the armor
I need to vanquish sin.
When those are cold and faithless,
Who once were fond and true,
With careless hearts forsaking
The old friends for the new,
I turn to Him whose friendship
Knows neither change nor end:
I always find in Jesus
An ever faithful Friend.
A PRESENT HELP.
HE RESTORETH MY SOUL.
I AM often so weary of sorrow,
So weary of struggling with sin,
So timid concerning the morrow,
So faithless of entering in
To the beautiful rest that remaineth
Secure in the City of God,
Where shall enter no evil that staineth,
Nor ever the spoiler hath trod.
No hand but Thine own, blessed Master,
Could comfort and cheer in the day
When the touch of a sudden disaster
Hath cumbered and tangled the way.
No look but Thine own could illumine
When night gathers black o'er the land,
And strength that is failing and human
Lieth prone on the desolate strand.
But ever Thy help is the nearest
When help from the earth there is none,
And ever the word that is dearest
Is the word of the Crucified Son;
And aye, when the tempest-clouds gather,
I fly for sweet shelter and peace
Through the Son to the heart of the Father,
Then terror and tremor do cease.
He restoreth my soul, and I praise Him
Whose love is my chrism and crown;
He restoreth my soul; let me raise Him
A song that His favor will own;
For often so weary of sorrow,
So weary of fighting with sin,
I look and I long for the morrow
When the ransom'd their freedom shall win.
THE gentle sighing of the wind among the pines,
The joyous singing of the lark at break of day,
The rippling of the water-brooks through cooling shade,
The patter of the softly falling rain at night,
Are sounds less sweet by far than His most precious name.
No art can show a form so gracious and so fair,
No Master's hand hath drawn a smile so wondrous sweet,
Nor could depict the majesty of that pure brow;
No canvas ever glowed with such a holy light
As shines from His most radiant image in my heart.
The dearest earthly friend may fail in time of need,
The sweetest and the loveliest grow cold at heart,
The nearest may not heed the throbbing heart's sad cry,
The gayest throng may hold the loneliest solitude,
But Jesus, Jesus never fails my call to hear.
Oh, may the music of Thy name more clearly fall
Upon my ears attuned to catch that sweetest sound!
Oh, may Thine image in my heart so bright become
That I by gazing may be changed into the same;
Oh, blessed Jesus, let Thy presence ne'er depart,
Oh, come and reign forevermore with my heart!
THERE'S ONLY ONE.
I OFFER THEE.
EVERY heart's throb, it is Thine;
Every human tie of mine;
Every joy, and every pain;
Every act of mind, or brain—
My blessed God!
Every hope, and every fear;
Every smile, and every tear;
Every song and every hymn
Take them all, my blessed Lord,
Bind them with Thy secret cord;
Glorify Thyself in me—
Multiply them by Thy Word,
Strengthen, bless, increase, my Lord,
Perfect me in holy Love,
Thou first, and last!
BEAUTIFUL hands are they that do
The work of the noble, good and true,
Busy for them the long day through;
Beautiful faces—they that wear
The light of a pleasing spirit there,
It matters little if dark or fair;
And truly beautiful in God's sight,
Are the precious souls who love the right.
LAID on Thine altar, O my Lord Divine,
Accept this gift to-day, for Jesus' sake.
I have no jewels to adorn Thy shrine,
Nor any world-famed sacrifice to make;
But here I bring, within my trembling hand,
This will of mine—a thing that seemeth small;
And Thou alone, O Lord, canst understand
How, when I yield Thee this, I yield mine all.
Hidden therein Thy searching gaze canst see
Struggles of passions, visions of delight,
All that I have, or am, or fain would be—
Deep loves, fond hopes, and longings infinite.
It hath been wet with tears, and dimmed with sighs,
Clenched in my grasp till beauty hath it none.
Now, from Thy footstool, where it vanquished lies,
The prayer ascendeth—"May Thy will be done!"
Take it, O Father, ere my courage fail;
And merge it so in Thine own will that I
May never have a wish to take it back;
When heart and courage fail, to Thee I'd fly.
So change, so purify, so like Thine own
Make Thou my will, so graced with love Divine,
I may not know or feel it as mine own,
But recognize my will as one with Thine.
LORD, HERE I BRING MYSELF.
WHOM WILL YE SERVE?
CAESAR'S friends? or friends of Jesus?
Solemn question for to-day!
Friends of Caesar! Friends of Jesus!
Take your sides without delay.
If ye pause for man's forbidding,
Caesar's friendship ye secure;
If ye do the Father's bidding,
Scorn, reproach, ye shall endure.
Friends of Caesar!
Friends of Jesus!
Stand revealed! your choice declare!
Who in truth two masters pleases?
Who may rival banners bear?
Jesus' friends account Him precious,
Lose for Him all other gain:
Dearer far the smile of Jesus
Than the praise of worldly men.
Free from Caesar, friends of Jesus!
Stand in phalanx! never fear!
Love, severely tried, increases;
Courage yet! the Lord is near!
Onward still, His name confessing,
Weaving crowns to grace His brow;
Lo! His hands are full of blessing,
Lifted for your succor now.
Caesar's friends were we, but Jesus
Owns us for His friends to-day!
What! shall rival friendship please us,
While the Bridegroom is away?
No! through grace would we surrender
Caesar's things to Caesar's care,
Whilst to God, Our God, we render
Filial homage, praise, and prayer.
THE COST OF DISCIPLESHIP.
Can ye ask from your heart the forgiveness of men?
Can ye list to reproaches, nor answer again?
Can ye pray that repentance to life may be theirs
Who've watched for your falling, who've set for you snares?
When I call, can ye turn and in gladness "come out"
From the home of your childhood, the friends of your heart?
With naught but My promise on which to rely,
Afar from their love—can ye lie down and die?
THE CALL DIVINE.
TIRED! well, what of that?
Didst fancy life was spent on beds of ease,
Fluttering the rose leaves scattered by the breeze?
Come, rouse thee! work while it is called to-day:
Courage! arise! go forth upon thy way.
Dark! well, what of that?
Didst fondly dream the sun would never set?
Dost fear to lose thy way? Take courage yet!
Learn thou to walk by faith, and not by sight;
Thy steps will guided be, and guided right.
"COUNT me the swords that have come."
"Lord, thousands on thousands are ready."
"Lo! these are too many, and with them are some
Whose hearts and whose hands are not steady.
He whose soul does not burn,
Let him take up his tent and return."
"Count me the swords that remain."
"Lord, hundreds on hundreds are daring."
"These yet are too many for Me to attain
To the victory I am preparing.
Lead them down to the brink
Of the waters of Marah to drink."
"Lord, those who remain are but few,
And the hosts of the foe are appalling,
And what can a handful such as we do?"
"When ye hear from beyond My voice calling,
Sound the trump! Hold the light!
Great Midian will melt in your sight!"
THE NARROW WAY.
STILL onward through this land of foes
I pass in Pilgrim guise;
I may not stop to seek repose
Where cool the shadow lies;
I may not stoop amid the grass
To pluck earth's fairest flowers,
Nor by her springing fountains pass
The sultry noontide hours.
Yet flowers I wear upon my breast
That no earth-garden knows—
White lilies of immortal peace,
And love's deep-tinted rose;
And there the blue-eyed flowers of faith
And hope's bright buds of gold,
As lone I tread the upward path,
In richest hues unfold.
I keep mine armor ever on,
For foes beset my way;
I watch, lest passing on alone
I fall a helpless prey.
No earthly love have I—I lean
Upon no mortal breast;
But my Beloved, though unseen,
Walks near and gives me rest.
They cannot see, as darkening clouds
Behind the Pilgrim close,
How far adown the western glade
The golden glory flows;
They cannot hear 'mid earthly din
The song to Pilgrims known,
Still blending with the angels' hymn
Around the wondrous throne.
So I Thy bounteous token-flowers
Still on my bosom wear;
While me the fleeting love-winged hours
To thee still nearer bear;
So from my lips Thy song shall flow,
My sweetest music be;
So on mine eyes the glory grow,
Till all is lost in Thee.
A SOLITARY WAY.
THERE is a mystery in human hearts,
And though we be encircled by a host
Of those who love us well, and are beloved,
To every one of us, from time to time,
There comes a sense of utter loneliness.
Our dearest friend is "stranger" to our joy,
And cannot realize our bitterness.
"There is not one who really understands,
Not one to enter into all I feel;"
Such is the cry of each of us in turn.
We wander in a "solitary way,"
No matter what or where our lot may be,
Each heart, mysterious even to itself,
Must live its inner life of solitude.
And would you know the reason why this is?
It is because the Lord desires our love.
In every heart He wishes to be first.
He therefore keeps the secret-key Himself,
To open all its chambers, and to bless
With perfect sympathy and holy peace
Each solitary soul which come to Him.
So when we feel this loneliness, it is
The voice of Jesus saying, "Come to Me;"
And every time we are "not understood,"
It is a call to us to come again;
For Christ alone can satisfy the soul,
And those who walk with Him from day to day
Can never have "a solitary way."
And when beneath some heavy cross you faint,
And say, "I cannot bear this load alone,"
You say the truth. Christ made it purposely
So heavy that you must return to Him.
The bitter grief, which "no one understands,"
Conveys a secret message from the King,
Entreating you to come to Him again.
The Man of Sorrows understands it well.
In all points tempted, He can feel with you.
You cannot come too often, or too near.
The Son of God is infinite in grace;
His presence satisfies the longing soul;
And those who walk with Him from day to day
Can never have "a solitary way."
GOD knows—not I—the devious way
Wherein my faltering feet must tread,
Before into the light of day
My steps from out this gloom are led.
And since my Lord the path doth see,
What matter if 'tis hid from me?
God knows—not I—how sweet accord
Shall grow at length from out this clash
Of earthly discords which have jarred
On soul and sense; I hear the crash,
Yet feel and know that on His ear
Breaks harmony—full, deep and clear.
God knows—not I—why, when I'd fain
Have walked in pastures green and fair,
The path He pointed me hath lain
Through rocky deserts bleak and bare.
I blindly trust—since 'tis His will—
This way lies safety, that way ill.
RIGHT WAS THE PATHWAY.
HE LEADETH ME.
IN pastures green?
Not always; sometimes He
Who knoweth best, in kindness leadeth me
In weary ways, where heavy shadows be.
Out of the sunshine, warm and soft and bright,
Out of the sunshine into darkest night;
I oft would faint with terror and with fright,
Only for this—I know He holds my hand;
So, whether in the green or desert land,
I trust, although I may not understand.
And by still waters?
No, not always so;
Ofttimes the heavy tempests round me blow,
And o'er my soul the waves and billows go.
But when the storm beats loudest, and I cry
Aloud for help, the Master standeth by,
And whispers to my soul, "Lo, it is I!"
Above the tempest wild I hear Him say,
"Beyond this darkness lies the perfect day,
In every path of thine I lead the way."
So, whether on the hill-tops, high and fair,
I dwell, or in the sunless valleys, where
The shadows lie—what matter? He is there.
And more than this, where'er the pathway lead,
He gives to me no helpless, broken reed,
But His own hand, sufficient for my need.
So, where He leads me I can safely go;
And in the blest hereafter I shall know,
Why, in His wisdom, He hath led me so.
THE ONE LOAF.
THE twilight hour, when all the world doth dream, I stand amid
The ripening grain, that ripples, like the bosom of a lake
Beneath the evening breeze. I pluck, and idly hold within
My hand, one golden ear, the while in swift succession pass
Strange visions of the olden time: I see a threshing-floor,—
The wheat by wooden flail bereft of chaff and shining husk.
The scene is changed: I see a woman grinding at a mill,—
Between the upper and the nether stones the grain is crushed
Until no semblance of its former state remains, but each
Is merged into one common whole,—a coarse and homely meal.
Another picture,—mixed with water and with salt, a loaf,
Or flattened cake, is formed and laid upon the glowing coals.
Denuded of their glittering robes of earthly pride and fame;
The upper and the nether stones of life's vicissitudes
Are slowly, surely, grinding rich and poor, the high, the low,
Into one common-union,—heart and mind, and zeal and love;
With purifying salt, life-giving water of the Word,
The mass is being drawn and held and moulded in "one loaf."
Ah, then, beloved, when we drink of that memorial cup,
And eat the symbol of His flesh, let us partake with joy,
Nor marvel if we need that strange, transforming power of fire,
Ere we are counted worthy to be like our Lord and Head,
And "broken" that a hungry, fainting, dying world be fed!
"UNTIL HE COME."
WHY DOST THOU WAIT?
POOR, trembling sheep!
Ah! who outside the fold
Hath bid thee stand, all weary as thou art,
Dangers around thee, and the bitter cold
Creeping and growing into thine inmost heart?
Who bids thee wait till some mysterious feeling,
Thou knowest not what—perchance mayst never know—
Shall find thee, when in darkness thou art kneeling,
And fill thee with a rich and wondrous glow
Of love and faith; and change to warmth and light
The chill and darkness of thy spirit's night!
For miracles like this who bids thee wait?
Behold, God's precious word to thee is, "Come!"
The tender Shepherd opens wide the gate,
And in His love would gently lead thee home.
Why shouldst thou wait? Long centuries ago,
O timid sheep, the Shepherd paid for thee!
Thou art His own. Wouldst thou His beauty know,
Nor trust the love which yet thou canst not see?
Thou hast not learned this lesson to receive:
More blest are they who see not, yet believe.
Still dost thou wait for feeling?
Dost thou say,
"Fain would I love and trust, but hope is dead;
I have no faith, and without faith, who may
Rest in the blessing which is only shed
Upon the faithful? I must stand and wait."
Not so. The Shepherd doth not ask of thee
Faith in thy faith, but only faith in Him;
And this He meant in saying, "Come to Me."
In light or darkness, seek to do His will,
And leave the work of faith to Jesus still.
TRUST IN THE LORD.
O TRUST thyself to Jesus,
When conscious of thy sin—
Of its heavy weight upon thee,
Of its mighty power within.
Then is the hour for pleading
His finished work for thee;
Then is the time for singing,
"His blood was shed for me."
O trust thyself to Jesus,
When faith is dim and weak,
And the very One thou needest
Thou canst not rise to seek.
Then is the hour for seeing
That He hath come to thee;
Then is the time for singing,
"His touch hath healed me."
O trust thyself to Jesus,
When tempted to transgress
By hasty word, or angry look,
Or thought of bitterness.
Then is the hour for claiming
Thy Lord to fight for thee;
Then is the time for singing,
"He doth deliver me."
O trust thyself to Jesus,
When daily cares perplex,
And trifles seem to gain a power
Thine inner soul to vex.
Then is the hour for grasping
His hand who walked the sea;
Then is the time for singing,
"He makes it calm for me."
O trust thyself to Jesus,
In bright and happy days,
When tasting earthly gladness,
Or winning human praise.
Then is the hour for hiding
In the shadow of His wings;
Then is the time for singing,
"Praise to the King of kings!"
O trust thyself to Jesus,
When thou art wearied sore,
When head or hand refuses
To think or labor more.
Then is the hour for leaning
Upon the Master's breast;
Then is the time for singing,
"My Savior gives me rest."
O trust thyself to Jesus,
When thou art tried with pain;
No power for prayer, the only thought
How to endure the strain.
Then is the hour for resting
In His perfect love for thee;
Then is the time for singing,
"He thinks and cares for me."
O trust thyself to Jesus,
When thou art full of care
For wanderers whom thou canst not win
Our blessed hope to share.
Then is the hour for trusting
Thy Lord to bring them nigh;
Then is the time for singing,
"He loves them more than I."
O trust thyself to Jesus,
When loved ones pass away,
When very lonely seems thy life,
And very dark thy way.
Then is the hour for yielding
Entirely to His will;
Then is the time for singing,
"I have my Savior still."
O trust thyself to Jesus,
When flesh and heart do fail,
And thou art called to enter
Death's dark, o'ershadowed vale.
Then is the hour for saying,
I will no evil fear;
Then is the time for singing,
"Lord, Thou art with me here."
TRUST HIM MORE.
SINCE The Father's arm sustains thee,
When a chastening hand restrains thee,
It is He.
Know His love in full completeness
Fills the measure of thy weakness;
If He wounds thy spirit sore,
Trust Him more.
Without measure, uncomplaining,
In His hand
Lay whatever things thou canst not
Though the world thy folly spurneth,
From thy faith in pity turneth,
Peace thine inmost soul shall fill,
To His own the Savior giveth
To each troubled soul that striveth,
Peace at length.
Weakest lambs have largest share
Of this tender Shepherd's care.
Ask Him not, then, When? or How?
OUR BOW OF PROMISE.
A RAVELED rainbow overhead
Lets down to earth its varying thread—
Love's blue, joy's gold; and fair between
Hope's shifting light of emerald green.
On either side in deep relief
A crimson pain, a violet grief.
Wouldst thou amid their gleaming hues
Snatch after those, and these refuse?
Believe, could thine anointed eyes
Follow their lines, and sound the skies,
There where the fadeless glories shine
Thine unseen Savior twists the twine!
And be thou sure what tint soe'er
The broken ray beneath may wear,
It needs them all that, fair and white,
His love may weave the perfect light.
FOLLOW THE PATTERN.
LET us take to our hearts a lesson—no lesson can braver be—
From the ways of the tapestry weavers on the other side of the sea.
Above their heads the pattern hangs; they study it with care;
The while their fingers deftly work, their eyes are fastened there.
They tell this curious thing, besides, of the patient, plodding weaver;
He works on the wrong side evermore, but works for the right side ever.
It is only when the weaving stops, and the web is loosed and turned,
That he sees his real handiwork—that his marvelous skill is learned.
Ah! the sight of its delicate beauty, how it pays him for all his cost!
No rarer, daintier work than his was ever done by the frost.
Then the master bringeth him golden hire, and giveth him praise as well;
The years of man are the looms of God, let down from the place of the sun,
Wherein we are weaving alway, till the mystic web is done—
Weaving blindly, but weaving sure, each for himself his fate,
We may not see how the right side looks, we can only weave and wait.
But looking above for the pattern, no weaver need have fear;
Only let him look clear into heaven—the perfect pattern is there.
If he keeps the face of the Savior forever and always in sight,
His toil shall be sweeter than honey, his weaving is sure to be right.
And when his task is ended, and the web is turned and shown,
He shall hear the voice of the Master, who shall say to him, "Well done!"
Since in copying thus the pattern, he had laid his own will down;
And God for his wages shall give him, not coin, but a glorious crown.
"O THOU OF LITTLE FAITH."
O thou of little faith, why dost thou shrink?
Why dost thou tremble at the river's brink?
Oh, hark! Above its tumult sweetly sounds My "Come",
Thou art not far from home!
Then, wherefore wouldst thou shrink?
A PERFECT TRUST.
IF I COULD KNOW.
IF I could only surely know
That all these things that tire me so
Were noticed by my Lord—
The pang that cuts me like a knife,
The noise, the weariness, the strife,
And all the nameless ills of life—
What peace it would afford!
I wonder if He really shares
In all these little human cares,
This mighty King of kings!—
If He who guides through boundless space
Each radiant planet in its place,
Can have the condescending grace
To mind these petty things.
It seems to me, if sure of this,
Blent with each ill would come such bliss
That I might covet pain,
And deem whatever brought to me
The blessed thought of Deity,
And sense of Christ's sweet sympathy,
Not loss, but richest gain.
Dear Lord, my heart shall no more doubt
That Thou dost compass me about
With sympathy Divine.
The Love for me once crucified
Is not the love to leave my side,
But waiteth ever to divide
Each smallest care of mine.
BRINGING HOME THE FLOCK.
HOW STRONG AND SWEET MY FATHER'S CARE!
THE LORD MY SHEPHERD.
HAVE FAITH IN GOD.
When thine eyes are dim with weeping,
And thy heart is full of woe
For the loved that now are sleeping
In the silent grave so low,
Have faith in God;
The dead shall rise
And meet the Savior
From the skies.
EVEN SO, FATHER
SOMETIME, when all life's lessons have been learned,
And sun and stars forevermore have set,
The things which our weak judgment here hath spurned—
The things o'er which we grieved with lashes wet—
Will flash before us out of life's dark night,
As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue;
And we shall see how all God's plans were right,
And how what seemed unkind was love most true.
And we shall see that while we weep and sigh
God's plans go on as best for you and me;
How, when we called, He heeded not our cry,
Because His wisdom to the end could see;
And e'en as prudent parents disallow
Too much of sweet to craving babyhood,
So God, perhaps, is keeping from us now
Life's sweetest things, because it seemeth good.
And if, sometime, commingled with life's wine,
We find the wormwood, and recoil and shrink,
Be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine
Pours out this portion for our lips to drink;
And if some friend we love is lying low,
Where human kisses cannot reach his face,
And you shall shortly know that lengthened breath
Is not the sweetest gift God sends His friend,
And that sometimes with sable pall of death
There also comes a boon His love doth send.
If we could push ajar the gates of Truth,
And stand within, and all God's workings see,
We could interpret all apparent strife,
And for life's mysteries could find the key.
If not to-day, be thou content, poor heart!
God's plans, like lilies pure and white, unfold;
We must not tear the chose-shut leaves apart;
Time will reveal the calyxes of gold.
And if, through patient toil, we reach the land
Where tired feet, with sandals loosed, may rest,
When we shall clearly know and understand,
I think that we shall say that God knew best.
OH, WHO SHALL ROLL THE STONE AWAY?
A NAMELESS chill pervaded all the air,
On that gray morn, long centuries ago,
As through the city's narrow streets there crept
Two women on their way to Calvary.
The fragrant odors of sweet spices told
Of their sad errand to the tomb of Him
They loved. And as they neared the garden where
Their blessed Lord was laid, a sudden fear
Took hold upon their eager, loving hearts—
(The sepulchre was hewn from solid rock,
A great stone had been rolled before the door,
And sealed with Pilate's royal signature)—
They felt their weakness, and in anguish cried,
"Oh, who shall roll for us the stone away?"
But faith grew bold, they urged their faltering steps—
When lo! they found an Angel from the Lord
Had rolled away the stone, and sat thereon!
Thus often, when with loving zeal we seek
To serve the Lord, a great fear chills our hearts,
The door of opportunity seems closed,
And in our weakness and distress we cry,
"Oh, who shall roll for us the stone away?"
But when with faith and courage we press on,
We find the Angel of the Lord hath gone
Before, and lo! the stone is rolled away!
TRANSVERSE AND PARALLEL
Yet more and more this truth doth shine
From failure and from loss:
The will that runs transverse from Thine
Doth thereby make its cross;
Thine upright will cuts straight and still
Through pride, and dream, and dross.
O SOUL OF MINE!
NOT SEEING, YET BELIEVING.
THE clouds hang heavy 'round my way,
I cannot see.
But through the darkness I believe
God leadeth me;
'Tis sweet to keep my hand in His
While all is dim;
To close my weary, aching eyes
And follow Him;
Through many a thorny path He leads
My tired feet.
Through many a path of tears I go,
But it is sweet
To know that He is close to me,
My God, my Guide;
He leadeth me, and so I walk
To my blind eyes He may reveal
No light at all;
But while I lean on His strong arm
I cannot fall.
LOVE is the filling from one's own
Love is a daily laying down
And taking up;
A choosing of the stony path
Through each new day
That other feet may tread with ease
A smoother way.
Love is not blind, but looks abroad
Through other eyes;
And asks not "Must I give?" but "May
Love hides its grief, that other hearts
And lips may sing;
And burdened, walks, that other lives
May, buoyant, wing.
Brother, hast thou a love like this
Within thy soul?
'Twill change thy name to saint when thou
Dost reach thy goal.
O LOVE, our refuge in earth's wildest storm!
O Service, life-breath of a heart that's warm!
A dual-unity, of heaven born;
For love is service in its highest form.
Flame-tints that shimmer on the desert air!
Love-lights that make Life's sands a garden fair,
Where joy and pain sing softly to the soul,
That God in man is Love in human care.
I MAY not understand just why the clouds obscure the sun,
But I can trust Him still, and feebly say, "Thy will be done."
I know not why each door of service He sees fit to close,
But I rejoice to find my will would ne'er His way oppose.
I can but wonder why it seemeth to my Father best,
To loosen from its resting place upon my throbbing breast
The priceless jewel fastened there by His own hand,—but then,
I joy to feel the mother-heart can still respond, Amen!
I do not always clearly see the lesson I should learn,
But hour by hour I'll strive to let the hallowed incense burn.
I know not why the sweet must turn to bitter in the cup,
But still I press it to my lips, and through my tears look up
To Him who is "too wise to err, too good to be unkind,"
Assured that, when the cup is drained, a blessing there I'll find.
Yea, Lord, let skies be overcast, as seemeth best to Thee,
Take from my arms the dearest thing Thy love hath given me;
Let sweet or bitter fill my cup, according to Thy will,
I'll closer clasp Thy hand in mine and in the flame hold still.
And thus, although Thou slay me, I will praise Thee night and day,
I'll lay each burden at Thy feet, and bear a song away!
HIS WAY IS BEST.
JUST TO LET THY FATHER DO WHAT HE WILL.
JUST to let Thy Father do what He will;
Just to know that He is true, and be still.
Just to follow, hour by hour, as He leadeth;
Just to draw the moment's power, as it needeth.
Just to trust Him, this is all. Then the day will surely be
Peaceful, whatso'er befall, bright and blessed, calm and free.
Just to let Him speak to thee, through His Word,
Watching, that His voice may be clearly heard.
Just to tell Him everything, as it rises,
And at once to bring to Him all surprises.
Just to listen, and to stay where you cannot miss His voice,
This is all! and thus today, you, communing, shall rejoice.
Just to trust, and yet to ask guidance still;
Take the training or the task, as He will.
Just to take the loss or gain, as He sends it;
Just to take the joy or pain as He lends it.
He who formed thee for His praise will not miss the gracious aim;
So today, and all thy days, shall be moulded for the same.
Just to let Him take the care sorely pressing;
Finding all we let Him bear changed to blessing.
This is all! and yet the way marked by Him who loves thee best:
Secret of a happy day, secret of His promised rest.
HIS VEILED ANGELS GUARD THEE.
"The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear
Him, and delivereth them."—Psa. 34:7. "He shall give
His angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy
ways."—Psa. 91:11. "Are they not all ministering
spirits sent forth to minister
unto them that shall be heirs of
OFTEN when thou'rt faint and weary in the struggle and the strife,
And thy heart nigh sinks within thee, 'neath the strain and stress of life:
When thou'rt tempted, tried and fearful, and thou canst not see the way,
And each night looms black with shadows from thy sorrows in the day;
I would ask thee still to trust Him, He who sees all in the light,
For He guards thee by His angels, though they're veiled from thy sight—
Yea, He guards thee by His angels, though they're veiled from thy sight.
Oh, be watchful, oh, be sober, for the Adversary tries,
To allure us to destruction by his subtly fashioned lies.
He would sift us, he would tempt us, he would claim us for his prey,
And his legions ever watch us as we tread the Narrow Way:
But we know of his devices, and we trust Jehovah's might,
For He guards us by His angels, though they're veiled from our sight—
Yea, He guards us by His angels, though they're veiled from our sight.
There is One who knows thy weakness, and thy failings, and thy tears,
Thy burdens and thy sorrows, and thy tremblings and thy fears,
And thy heart-cries always reach Him, and are answered in His way,
Though thou canst not see His workings as they shape thy path each day.
Sad disaster had o'erwhelmed thee, had He not put forth His might,
Through His angels that surround thee, but are veiled from thy sight—
Guardian angels that surround thee, but are veiled from thy sight.
In the sunlight of the glory that surrounds our Father's Throne,
He will tell us how He led us: we shall see the pathway clear,
The way we trod that led to God through failing, fault and fear.
And we'll see those guardian angels who were veiled from our sight,
We shall understand the workings of the Power put forth in might:
Yea, and with those guardian angels who were veiled from our sight,
We shall see our Savior, and our God, in Heaven's Eternal Light.
HE CARETH FOR YOU.
WHAT can it mean?
Is it aught to Him,
That the nights are long, and the days are dim?
Can He be touched by the griefs I bear,
Which sadden the heart and whiten the hair?
Around His throne are eternal calms,
And strong, glad music of happy psalms,
And bliss unruffled by any strife.
How can He care for my poor life?
And yet I want Him to care for me,
While I live in this world where the sorrows be;
When the lights die down on the path I take;
When strength is feeble, and friends forsake;
When love and music, that once did bless,
Have left me to silence and loneliness;
When shadows hang o'er me the whole day long,
And my spirit is bowed with shame and wrong;
When I am not good, and the deeper shade
Of conscious sin makes my heart afraid;
And the busy world has too much to do
To stay in its course to help me through.
And I long for a Savior—can it be
That the God of the universe cares for me?
Oh, wonderful story of deathless love!
Each child is dear to that Heart above;
He fights for me when I cannot fight;
He comforts me in the gloom of night;
He lifts the burden, for He is strong;
He stills the sigh and awakens the song;
The sorrow that bore me down He bears,
And loves and pardons, because He cares.
Let all who are sad take heart again:
We are not alone in our hours of pain;
Our Father stoops from His throne above,
To soothe and quiet us with His love.
He leaves us not when the storm is high,
And we have safety, for He is nigh.
Can that be trouble, which He doth share?
Oh, rest in peace, for the Lord doth care.
MY TRUST IN HIM.
I CANNOT always see the way that leads
To heights above;
I sometimes quite forget He leads me on
With hands of love.
But yet I realize the path must lead me to
And when I reach life's summit, I shall know
I cannot always trace the onward course
My bark must take;
But looking backward, I behold afar
Its shining wake
Illumined with God's Light of Love; and so
I onward go
In perfect trust that He who holds the helm
The course must know.
I cannot always see the plan on which
He builds my life;
For oft the sound of hammer, blow on blow,
The noise of strife,
Confuse me till I quite forget He knows
And that in all details with His great plan
My life agrees.
FILLED WITH CHRIST'S FULNESS.
IS IT FOR ME?
INTO HIS MARVELOUS LIGHT.
OUT of disaster and ruin complete,
Out of the struggle and dreary defeat,
Out of my sorrow, and burden, and shame,
Out of the evils too fearful to name,
Out of my guilt and the criminal's doom,
Out of the dreading, and terror, and gloom;
Into the sense of forgiveness and rest,
Into inheritance with all the blest,
Into a righteous and permanent peace,
Into the grandest and fullest release,
Into the comfort without an alloy,
Into a perfect and permanent joy.
Out of the terror at standing alone,
Out, and forever, of being my own,
Out of the hardness of heart and of will,
Out of the longings which nothing could fill,
Out of the bitterness, madness and strife,
Out of myself and of all I called life;
BELIEVE GOOD THINGS OF GOD.
BEARING GOD'S BURDENS.
I LONG had borne a weary load
Along life's rough and thorny road,
And oftentimes had wondered why
My friend walked burdenless, while I
Was forced to carry day by day
The cross which on my shoulders lay.
When, lo, one day the Master laid
Another cross on me! Dismayed
And faint, and trembling and distressed,
I cried, "Oh, I have longed for rest
These many days. I cannot bear
This other heavy load of care.
I pray Thee, Lord, behold this one—
Shall I bear both while he hath none?"
No answer came. The cross was laid
On my poor back, and I was weighed
Down to the earth. And as I went
Toiling along and almost spent,
Again I cried, "Lord, have I been
Untrue to Thee? Is it for sin
That I have done, that I must still
Carry this cross against my will?"
"My child," the Master's voice returned,
"Hast thou not yet the lesson learned?
The burden thou hast borne so long
Hath only made thee grow more strong,
And fitted thee to bear for Me
This other load I lay on thee.
Thy brother is too weak as yet
To have a cross upon him set.
God's burdens rest upon the strong—
They stronger grow who bear them long,
And each new burden is a sign
That greater power to bear is thine."
So now no longer I repine,
Because a heavy cross is mine,
But struggle onward with the prayer,
Make me more worthy, Lord, to bear!
"BLESSED ARE THEY WHO HAVE NOT SEEN AND YET HAVE BELIEVED."
I stretch my hand: it lies so near.
It looks so sweet, it looks so dear!
"Dear Lord," I pray, "oh, let me know
If it is wrong to want it so!"
He only smiles; He does not speak;
My heart grows weaker and more weak
With looking at the thing so dear,
Which lies so far and yet so near.
THIS IS MY WILL FOR THEE.
IN MY NAME.
THERE were only two or three of us
Who came to the place of prayer—
Came in the teeth of the driving storm;
But for that we did not care,
Since after our hymns of praise had risen,
And our earnest prayers were said,
The Master Himself was present there,
And He gave us the living bread.
We noted the look in each other's face,
So loving, and glad, and free;
We felt His touch when our heads were bowed,
We heard His "Come to Me!"
Nobody saw Him lift the latch,
And none unbarred the door;
But "Peace" was His token in every heart,
And how could we ask for more?
Each of us felt the relief from sin,
Christ's purchase for one and all;
Each of us dropped his load of care,
And heard the Heavenly call;
And over our spirits a blessed calm
Swept in from the Jasper Sea,
And strength was ours for the toil of life
In the days that were yet to be.
A LITTLE TALK WITH JESUS.
A LITTLE talk with Jesus,—
How it smooths the rugged road!
How it seems to help me onward,
When I faint beneath my load!
When my heart is crushed with sorrow,
And mine eyes with tears are dim,
There is naught can yield me comfort
Like a little talk with Him.
I tell Him I am weary,
And I fain would be at rest;
But I still will wait His bidding,
For His way is always best.
Then His promise ever cheers me
'Mid all the cares of life:—
"I am come, and soon in glory
Will end thy toil and strife."
Ah, that is what I'm wanting,
His lovely face to see—
And I'm not afraid to say it,
I know He's wanting me.
He gave His life a ransom
To make me all His own,
And He'll ne'er forget His promise
To me, His purchased one.
The way is sometimes weary
To yonder nearing clime,
But a little talk with Jesus
Hath helped me many a time.
The more I come to know Him,
And all His grace explore,
It sets me ever longing
To know Him more and more.
THE SECRET OF HIS PRESENCE.
IN the secret of His presence
How my soul delights to hide:
Oh, how precious are the lessons
Which I learn at Jesus' side.
Earthly cares can only vex me,
Trials never lay me low,
And when Satan comes to tempt me,
To the secret place I go.
When my would is faint and thirsty,
'Neath the shadow of His wing
There is cool and pleasant shelter,
And a fresh and crystal spring.
And my Savior rests beside me,
As we hold communion sweet;
If I tried, I could not utter
What He says, when thus we meet.
Do you think that I could love Him
Half so well, or as I ought,
If He did not plainly tell me
Each displeasing word and thought?
No! for He is very faithful,
And that makes me trust Him more,
For I know that He doth love me,
Though sometimes He wounds me sore.
Would you like to know the sweetness
Of this secret of the Lord?
Go and hide beneath His shadow,
This shall then be your reward.
And whene'er you leave the silence
Of that happy meeting place,
You must mind and bear the image
Of the Master in your face.
LORD, GIVE ME THIS!
PRAYER OF THE CONSECRATED.
LIVING FOR JESUS.
LORD, LET ME TALK WITH THEE.
LORD, let me talk with Thee of all I do,
All that I care for, all that I wish for, too;
Lord, let me prove Thy sympathy, Thy power,
Thy loving oversight from hour to hour!
When I need counsel, let me ask of Thee:
Whatever my perplexity may be,
It cannot be too trivial to bring
To One who marks the sparrow's drooping wing;
Nor too terrestrial since Thou hast said
The very hairs are numbered on our head.
'Tis through such loop-holes that the foe takes aim,
And sparks, unheeded, burst into a flame.
Do money troubles press? Thou canst resolve
The doubts and dangers such concerns involve.
Are those I love the cause of anxious care?
Thou canst unbind the burdens they may bear.
Before the mysteries of Thy Word or will,
Thy voice can gently bid my heart be still,
Since all that now is hard to understand
Shall be unravelled in yon heavenly land.
Or do I mourn the oft-besetting sin,
The tempter's wiles, that mar the peace within?
Present Thyself, Lord, as the absolving priest,
To whom confessing, I go forth released.
Do weakness, weariness, disease, invade
This earthly house, which Thou Thyself hast made?
Thou only, Lord, canst touch the hidden spring
Of mischief, and attune the jarring string.
Would I be taught what Thou wouldst have me give,
The needs of those less favored to relieve?
Thou canst so guide my hand that I shall be
A liberal, "cheerful give," Lord, like Thee.
Of my life's mission, do I stand in doubt?
Thou knowest and canst clearly point it out.
Whither I go, do Thou Thyself decide,
And choose the friends and servants by my side.
The books I read, I would submit to Thee,
Let them refresh, instruct and solace me.
I would converse with Thee from day to day,
With heart intent on what Thou hast to say;
And through my pilgrim walk, whate'er befall,
Consult with Thee, O Lord, about it all.
Since Thou art willing thus to condescend
To be mine intimate, familiar friend,
Oh, let me to the great occasion rise,
And count Thy friendship life's most glorious prize.
MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND.
WHAT A FRIEND WE HAVE IN JESUS.
O, USE ME, LORD!
BEING perplexed, I say,
Lord, make it right!
Night is as day to Thee,
Darkness is light.
I am afraid to touch
Things that involve so much.
My trembling hand may shake,
Mine unskilled hand may break;
Thine can make no mistake.
Being in doubt, I say,
Lord, make it plain!
Which is the true, safe way,
Which would be vain?
I am not wise to know,
Nor sure of foot to go;
My poor eyes cannot see
What is so clear to Thee—
Lord, make it clear to me.
I KNOW not the way that's before me,
The joys or the griefs it may bring;
What clouds are o'erhanging the future,
What flowers by the wayside may spring.
But there's One who will journey beside me,
Nor in weal nor in woe will forsake;
And this is my solace and comfort,
"He knoweth the way that I take."
THE PILGRIM'S WANTS.
WATCH AND PRAY.
I DO not ask, dear Lord, that life may be
A pleasant road;
I do not ask that Thou wouldst take from me
Aught of its load;
I do not ask that flowers should always spring
Beneath my feet;
I know too well the poision and the sting
Of things too sweet.
For one thing only, Lord, dear Lord, I plead:
Lead me aright,
Tho' strength should falter, and tho' heart should bleed,
Through peace to light.
I do not ask, dear Lord, that Thou shouldst shed
Full radiance here;
Give but a ray of peace, that I may tread
Without a fear;
I do not ask my cross to understand,
My way to see;
Better in darkness, just to feel Thy hand,
And follow Thee.
Joy is like restless day, but peace Divine
Like quiet night;
Lead me, O Lord, till perfect day shall shine,
Through peace to light.
FATHER, TAKE MY HAND.
THE way is dark, my Father!
Cloud on cloud
Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud
The thunders roar above me. See, I stand
Like one bewildered! Father, take my hand,
And through the gloom
Lead safely home
The way is long, my Father!
And my soul
Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal;
While yet I journey through the weary land,
Keep me from wandering, Father, take my hand.
Quickly and straight
Lead to heaven's gate
The path is rough, my Father!
Many a thorn
Hath pierced me; and my weary feet, all torn
And bleeding, mark the way. Yet Thy command
Bids me press forward. Father, take my hand.
Then, safe and blest,
Lead up to rest
The throng is great, my Father!
Many a doubt
And fear, and danger, compass me about,
And foes oppress me so. I cannot stand
Or go alone. O Father! take my hand,
And through the throng
Lead safe along
JUST FOR TODAY.
LORD, for tomorrow and its needs I do not pray;
Keep me from any stain of sin just for today.
Let me both diligently work and duly pray;
Let me be kind in word and deed just for today.
Let me be slow to do my will, prompt to obey;
Help me to sacrifice myself just for today.
Let me no wrong nor idle word unthinking say;
Set Thou Thy seal upon my lips just for today.
So for tomorrow and its needs I do not pray,
But keep me, guide me, hold me, Lord, just for today.
SHOW ME THY FACE.
SHOW me Thy face—one transient gleam
Of loveliness Divine,
And I shall never think or dream
Of other love than Thine;
All other lights will darken quite,
All lower glories wane,
The beautiful of earth will scarce
Seem beautiful again.
Show me Thy face—the heaviest cross
Will then seem light to bear,
There will be gain in every loss,
And peace with every care.
With such light feet the years will fleet,
Life seem as brief as blest,
Till I have laid my burden down,
And entered into rest.
PRAY WITHOUT CEASING.
UNANSWERED yet, the prayer your lips have pleaded
In agony of heart these many years?
Doth faith begin to fail, is hope declining,
And think you all in vain those falling tears?
Say not the Father hath not heard your prayer,
You shall have your desire, sometime, somewhere.
Tho' when you first presented
This one petition at the Father's throne,
It seemed you could not wait the time of asking,
So anxious was your heart to have it done.
If years have passed since then, do not despair,
For God will answer you sometime, somewhere.
But you are not unheeded;
The promises of God forever stand;
To Him our days and years alike are equal.
Have faith in God! It is your Lord's command.
Hold on to Jacob's angel, and your prayer
Shall bring a blessing down, sometime, somewhere.
Nay, do not say unanswered;
Perhaps your part is not yet wholly done.
The work began when first your prayer was uttered;
And God will finish what He hath begun.
Keep incense burning at the shrine of prayer,
And glory shall descend, sometime, somewhere.
COMMUNION WITH OUR FATHER.
THUS MAY HE BLESS AND KEEP THEE.
And keep thee!
How shall He keep thee?
With the all-covering shadow of His wings;
With the strong love that guards from evil things;
With the sure power that safe to glory brings—
Thus may He keep thee!
THY WILL BE DONE.
HEAVENLY Father, Holy One!
May Thy will in us be done:
Make our hearts submissive, meek,
Let us ne'er our own way seek.
Loving Savior, we would be
Ever more and more like Thee,
Free from pride and self-desire,
Fervent with a holy fire.
Jesus, Master, we would bear
In Thy sufferings a share;
Help us, Lord, to follow Thee,
Heavy though the cross may be.
Fill us with Divinest love,
With Thy spirit from above,
May we patiently endure,
Trusting in Thy promise sure.
Blessed Lord, Thy saints defend,
Watching o'er them to the end;
Day by day their faith increase,
Keep them in Thy perfect peace;
Comfort, strengthen, guide and bless,
Lead them through the wilderness,
And when Thy due time shall come,
Gather all Thy loved ones home.
A PRAYER FOR PERFECT LOVE.
MASTER, SAY ON!
I cannot doubt Thee;
Thou wilt through life's pathway lead;
Savior, Shepherd, oh! without Thee
Life would be a blank indeed.
Yet I seek still fuller light,
Deeper love, and clearer sight.
HYMN OF THE WALDENSES.
HEAR, Father, hear Thy faint, afflicted flock
Cry to Thee from the desert and the rock,
While those who seek to slay Thy children hold
Blasphemous worship under roofs of gold;
And the broad, goodly lands with pleasant airs
That nurse the grape and wave the grain, are theirs.
Yet better were this mountain wilderness,
And this wild life of danger and distress—
Watchings by night, and perilous flight by day,
And meetings in the depths of earth to pray—
Better, far better than to kneel with them,
And pray the impious rite Thy laws condemn.
Yet, mighty God, yet shall Thy frown look forth
Unveiled, and terribly shall shake the earth;
Then the foul power of priestly sin and all
Its long-upheld idolatries shall fall.
Thou shalt raise up the trampled and opprest,
And Thy delivered saints shall dwell in rest.
"GOD BLESS YOU!"
THE TRIAL HOUR.
GIDEON'S ARMY IN ANTITYPE.
LET US GO FORTH.
SILENT, like men in solemn haste,
Girded wayfarers of the waste,
We pass out at the world's wide gate,
Turning our back on all its state;
We press along the narrow road
That leads to life, to bliss, to God.
We cannot and we would not stay;
We dread the snares that throng the way;
We fling aside the weight and sin,
Resolved the victory to win;
We know the peril, but our eyes
Rest on the splendor of the prize.
What though with weariness oppressed?
'Tis but a little and we rest.
This throbbing heart and burning brain
Will soon be calm and cool again:
Night is far spent and morn is near—
Morn of the cloudless and the clear.
No idling now, no slothful sleep,
From Christian toil our pow'rs to keep;
No shrinking from the desperate fight,
No thought of yielding or of flight;
No love of present gain or ease,
No seeking man or self to please.
No sorrow for the loss of fame,
No dread of scandal on our name;
No terror for the world's sharp scorn,
No wish that taunting to return;
No hatred can to hatred move
The soul that's filled with pitying love.
No sigh for laughter left behind,
Or pleasures scattered to the wind;
No looking back on Sodom's plains,
No listening still to Babel's strains;
No tears for Egypt's song and smile,
No thirsting for its flowing Nile.
'Tis but a little and we come
To our reward, our crown, our home!
Another year, or more, or less,
And we have crossed the wilderness;
Finished the toil, the rest begun,
The battle fought, the triumph won!
We grudge not, then, the toil, the way;
Its ending is the endless day!
We shrink not from these tempests keen,
With little of the calm between;
We welcome each descending sun;
Ere morn our joy may be begun!
KEEP striving: The winners are those who have striven
And fought for the prize that no idler hath won;
To the hands of the steadfast alone it is given,
And before it is gained, there is work to be done.
Keep climbing: The earnest and steadfast have scaled
The height where the pathway was rough to the feet;
But the faint-hearted faltered, and faltering, failed,
And sank down by the wayside in helpless defeat.
UP then, and linger not, thou saint of God,
Fling from thy shoulders each impeding load;
Be brave and wise, shake off earth's soil and sin,
That with the Bridegroom thou mayst enter in.
O watch and pray!
Clear hath the voice been heard, Behold I've come—
That voice that calls thee to thy glorious home,
That bids thee leave these vales and take swift wing,
To meet the hosts of thy descending King;—
And thou mayst rise!
COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS.
TO play through life a perfect part,
Unnoticed and unknown;
To seek no rest in any heart
Save only God's alone;
In little things to own no will,
To have no share in great,
To find the labor ready still,
And for the crown to wait;
Upon the brow to bear no trace
Of more than common care;
To write no secret in the face
For men to read it there;
The daily cross to clasp and bless
With such familiar zeal
As hides from all that not the less
Its daily weight you feel;
In toils that praise will never pay
To see your life go past;
To meet in every coming day
Twin sister of the last;
To hear of high, heroic things,
And yield them reverence due,
But feel life's daily offerings
Are far more fit for you;
Oh! 'tis a pathway rough to choose,
A struggle hard to share,
For human pride would still refuse
The nameless trials there;
But since we know the gate is low
That leads to heavenly bliss,
What higher grace could God bestow
Than such a life as this!
BE strong to bear, O heart of mine,
Faint not when sorrows come.
The sum of all these ills of earth
Prepares thee for thy home.
So many burdened ones there are
Close toiling by thy side,
Assist, encourage, comfort them,
Thine own deep anguish hide.
What though thy trials may seem great?
Thy strength is known to God,
And pathways steep and rugged lead
To pastures green and broad.
Seek every hungry heart to feed,
Each saddened heart to cheer;
And when stern justice stands aloof,
In mercy draw thou near.
True, loving words and helping hands
Have won more souls for Heaven
Than all the mixed and various creeds
By priests and sages given.
For every grief a joy will come,
For every toil a rest;
So hope, so love, so patient bear—
God doeth all things best.
Be strong to hope, O heart of mine,
Look not on life's dark side;
For just beyond these gloomy hours
Rich, radiant days abide.
Let hope, like summer's rainbow bright,
Scatter thy falling tears,
And let God's precious promises
Dispel thine anxious fears.
THE hammer of Thy discipline, O Lord,
Strikes fast and hard. Life's anvil rings again
To Thy strong strokes. And yet we know 'tis then
That from the heart's hot iron all abroad
The rich glow spreads. Great Fashioner Divine,
Who spareth not, in Thy far-seeing plan,
The blows that shape the character of man,
Or fire that makes him yield to touch of Thine,
Strike on, then, if Thou wilt! For Thou alone
Canst rightly test the temper of our will,
Or tell how these base metals may fulfil
Thy purpose—making all our life Thine own.
Only we do beseech Thee, let the pain
Of fiery ordeals through which we go
Shed all around us such a warmth and glow,
Such cheerful showers of sparks in golden rain,
That hard hearts may be melted, cold hearts fired,
And callous hearts be taught to feel and see
That discipline is more to be desired
Than all the ease that keeps us back from Thee.
WHAT WOULD JESUS DO?
IF WE HAD BUT A DAY.
WE should fill the hours with the sweetest things,
If we had but a day;
We should drink alone at the purest springs
On our upward way;
We should love with a lifetime's love in an hour,
If the hours were few;
We should sleep, not for dreams, but for fresher power,
To be and to do.
We should waste no moment in weak regret,
If the days were but one,
If what we remember and what we forget
Went out with the sun;
We should be from our clamorous selves set free,
To work and to pray;
To be what the Father would have us be,
If we had but a day.
"INSTANT IN SEASON."
IF WE ONLY UNDERSTOOD.
COULD we draw aside the curtains
That surround each other's lives,
See the naked heart and spirit,
Know what spur the action gives—
Often we would find it better,
Purer than we judge we would;
We would love each other better
If we only understood.
Could we judge all deeds by motives,
See the good and bad within,
Often we would love the sinner
All the while we loathe the sin.
Could we know the powers working
To o'erthrow integrity,
We would judge each other's errors
With more patient charity.
If we knew the cares and trials,
Knew the efforts all in vain,
And the bitter disappointments—
Understood the loss and gain—
Would the grim external roughness
Seem, I wonder, just the same?
Would we help where now we hinder?
Would we pity where we blame?
Ah, we judge each other harshly,
Knowing not life's hidden force;
Knowing not the fount of action
Is less turbid at its source.
Seeing not amid the evil
All the golden grains of good,
Oh, we'd love each other better
If we only understood.
STUMBLING STONES OR STEPPING STONES?
I HAVE been sorely tried, dear Lord, been sorely tried today,
The sun hath veiled his brightness, and a cloud hangs o'er my way;
Why is my heart so heavy, and the daylight cold and gray?
I've tried to please Thee, I have striven to faithful be and true,
I've sought for heavenly wisdom in the thing that I should do;
Yet I've been "put to grief"; and oh, can I have grieved Thee, too?
A fellow-pilgrim on the road a wound hath given to me,
Its sting and smart I keenly feel—its need I cannot see.
Stumbling stone or stepping stone, O Lord, which shall it be?
The shades of deepest darkness about my heartstrings creep;
The tears have flowed unceasing, till no power is left to weep.
I bow beneath my weight of woe, speechless and stunned; my heart
Sinks down like lead within my breast; its bitter ache and smart
Seem almost more than I can bear. A sharp and cruel dart
Hath pierced me, and I prostrate lie. O Father, speak to me!
Thy hand lies hard upon me: can this trial come from Thee?
Stepping stone or stumbling stone, which shall this sorrow be?
A blessing came this day to me, a joy surpassing sweet,
A glad way opens up to me, wherein my willing feet
Turn joyfully; how blest I am within this dear retreat!
My way had dark and lonely been for many a weary year;
My Lord hath brought this gift to me when all was sad and drear;
Now, where my path was bleak, the flowers of love and bliss appear.
And, yet, dear Lord, this blessing which Thy love hath given to me
May fill my heart too fully, and may wean my soul from Thee—
Momentous question! on its answer my eternal joy
Hangs trembling; shall I be refined as gold without alloy?
These woes and blessings potent are to save or to destroy.
The time flies on! the "harvest" wanes, the glorious end is near!
O Master, shall I lose e'en now the "prize" I hold so dear?
Shall woes or joys of life have power to dull my listening ear?
Shall I be lured by siren song, while strains of heaven break
On ears attuned? Oh, guide me, Lord, and keep me still awake.
May I rejoice to walk with Thee, and suffer for Thy sake!
But I am weak; O Master, dear, do Thou my spirit thrill,
Grant me Thy grace, and strength impart to do Thy perfect will,
And in affliction or in joy obey and love Thee still.
Almighty Lord, to Thee I fly—no other help I know;
Oh, aid me in my need, I pray, and make my heart to glow
With holy fire, and on me, Lord, Thy precious love bestow.
I hear Thee speak, I will obey, I stretch my hands to Thee,
IN THE PRESENCE OF THE KING.
TAKE TIME TO BE HOLY.
JUDGE NOT BY OUTWARD APPEARANCE.
JUDGE not; the workings of the brain
And of the heart thou canst not see;
What looks to thy dim eye a stain,
In God's pure light may only be
A scar, brought from some well-won field,
Where thou wouldst only faint and yield.
The look, the air, that frets thy sight,
May be a token that below
The soul hath closed in deadly fight
With some internal, fiery foe,
Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace,
And cast thee, shuddering, on thy face.
The fall thou darest to despise:
May be the angel's slackened hand
Hath suffered it that he may rise
And take a firmer, truer stand;
Or, trusting less to earthly things,
May henceforth learn to use his wings.
And judge none lost; but wait and see,
With hopeful pity, not disdain;
The depth of the abyss may be
The measure of the height of pain
And love and glory that may raise
This soul to God in after days.
I'LL DO MY VERY BEST.
SCATTER SEEDS OF KINDNESS.
LOVING words will cost but little,
Journeying up the hill of life;
But they make the weak and weary
Stronger, braver for the strife.
Do you count them only trifles?
What to earth are sun and rain?
Never was a kind word wasted,
Never was one said in vain.
When the cares of life are many,
And its burdens heavy grow
For the ones who walk beside you,
If you love them, tell them so.
What you count of little value
Hath an almost magic power,
And beneath that cheering sunshine
Hearts will blossom like a flower.
THE SERVANT'S PATH IN A DAY OF REJECTION.
SERVANT of Christ, stand fast amid the scorn
Of men who little know or love thy Lord;
Turn not aside from toil: cease not to warn,
Comfort and teach, trust Him for thy reward;
A few more moments' suffering, and then
Cometh sweet rest from all thy heart's deep pain.
For grace pray much, for much thou needest grace.
If men thy work deride—what can they more?
Christ's weary foot thy path on earth doth trace;
If thorns wound thee, they pierced Him before;
Press on, look, tho' clouds may gather round,
Thy place of service He makes hallowed ground.
Have friends forsaken thee, and cast thy name
Out as a worthless thing? Take courage then:
Go tell thy Master, for they did the same
To Him, who once in patience toiled for them;
Yet He was perfect in all service here;
Thou oft hast failed: this maketh Him more dear.
Self-vindication shun; if in the right
What gainest thou by taking from God's hand
Thy cause? If wrong, what dost thou but invite
Satan himself thy friend in need to stand?
Leave all with God; if right, He'll prove thee so;
If not, He'll pardon; therefore to Him go.
Be not men's servant: think what costly price
Was paid that thou might'st His own bondsman be,
Whose service perfect freedom is. Let this
Hold fast thy heart. His claim is great to thee.
None should thy soul enthrall to whom 'tis given
To serve on earth, with liberty of Heaven.
All His are thine to serve: Christ's brethren here
Are needing aid, in them thou servest Him.
The least of all is still His member dear,
The weakest cost His life-blood to redeem.
Yield to no "party" what He rightly claims,
Who on His heart bears all His people's names.
Be wise, be watchful, wily men surround
Thy path. Be careful, for they seek with care
To trip thee up; see that no plea be found
In thee thy Master to reproach. The snare
They set for thee will then themselves enclose
And God His righteous judgment thus disclose.
Cleave to the poor, Christ's image in them is;
Count it great honor if they love thee well;
Nought can repay thee after losing this,
Tho' with the wise and wealthy thou shouldst dwell.
Thy Master oftentimes would pass thy door
To hold communion with His much-loved poor.
THE WATERED LILIES.
IT takes great strength to train
To modern service your ancestral brain;
To lift the weight of the unnumbered years
Of dead men's habits, methods and ideas;
To hold that back with one hand, and support
With the other the weak steps of new resolve!
It takes great strength to bring your life up square
With your accepted thought, and hold it there,
Resisting the inertia that drags back
From new attempts to the old habit's track.
It is so easy to drift back—to sink—
So hard to live abreast of what you think!
It takes great strength to live where you belong,
When other people think that you are wrong;
People you love, and who love you, and whose
Approval is a pleasure you would choose.
To bear this pressure, and succeed at length
In living your belief—well, it takes strength—
Courage, too. But what does courage mean
Save strength to help you face a pain foreseen;
Courage to undertake this life-long strain
Of setting yourself against your grandsire's brain:
Dangerous risk of walking alone and free,
Out of the easy paths that used to be;
And the fierce pain of hurting those we love,
When love meets truth, and truth must ride above!
Where light shines back from no reflecting face.
Our sun's wide glare, our heaven's shining blue,
We owe to fog and dust they fumble through;
And our rich wisdom that we treasure so,
Shines from a thousand things that we don't know.
But to think new—it takes a courage grim
As led Columbus over the world's rim.
To think—it costs some courage—and to go—
Try it—it taxes every power you know.
It takes great love to stir a human heart
To live beyond the others, and apart;
A love that is not shallow, is not small;
Is not for one or two, but for them all.
Love that can wound love for its higher need;
Love that can leave love, though the heart may bleed;
Love that can lose love, family and friend,
Yet steadfastly live, loving to the end.
A love that asks no answer, that can live,
Moved by one burning, deathless force—to give!
Love, strength and courage; courage, strength and love—
The heroes of all time are built thereof.
NEARING THE GOAL.
WITH eyes aflame, with panting breath, they come,—
The runners,—every nerve and muscle tense,—
Urged forward by a thousand deafening cries,
On, on, they rush, when one, close to the goal,
For but one moment glances back in pride
To note how far he hath outrun the rest.
Alas! tripped by a pebble on the course,
He stumbles, falls, arises, but too late,—
Another sweeps ahead with blood-flecked lips
And bursting heart! One final, awful strain,
With superhuman effort, grand, supreme,
He leaps into the air,—and falls in death
Across the line,—a victor, but at what
A fearful cost!—he gave his life, his all!
I ponder o'er this tragedy of days
When Greece was mistress of the world, and say,
"Hast not thou also entered on a race,
My soul, in contest for a 'Crown of life,'
A prize thou canst not win except thine all
Thou givest! Then, be wise, and watch and pray,
Turn not thine eyes one instant from 'the mark,'
For fear thou dash thy foot against some small,
Well-rounded truth, which in thy pride thou hast
O'erlooked, and thus thou stumble, fall, and though
Thou shouldst arise, 'twould be too late to win!"
And strip thyself, my soul, of every weight;
Gird up thy loins, make straight paths for thy feet;
Breathe deeply of the Spirit's conquering power,
And run with patient, meek, enduring zeal!
Almost thou hast attained, my soul, my soul!
Shall angels, principalities, or powers,
Or height, or depth, or other creature, draw
Thee from the goal so near? Ah! yes, so near,
The glory-light streams through the parting veil;
Have faith, press on, one effort, grand supreme,—
And thou hast won in death Love's blood-bought crown!"
WITH me there walks a presence
Unseen to mortal view;
Hearing each word I utter:
Looking at all I do.
Watching to see what power
The Truth to my life imparts,
Longing to see His image
Growing within my heart.
Oh! does my conduct please Him?
Can He my words approve?
Or do I daily grieve Him
By woeful lack of love?
How all my heart is yearning
More like my Lord to be;
Oh! Friend, of unseen presence,
Help me to grow like Thee!
Even as He proved conqueror,
So must I overcome.
Self rises up against me,
Fierce must the conflict be;
Forces of evil try me,
Satan opposes me.
My Captain commands me, saying,
"Comrade, you must not yield;
Gird on the Heavenly armor;
The Sword of the Spirit wield;
None but the overcomer
Shareth My royal throne!"
Help me, oh, Mighty Captain,
Ever to overcome!
Beside me stands the Master;
Points to the ripening grain,
bids me thrust in the sickle,
Reaping what yet remains.
He will accept no idler,
I must work faithfully;
I must pass on to others
Truth that was given me;
Tell of the Heavenly Kingdom,
The blessings that are for all;
Praising the Heavenly Father,
Sounding the Heavenly call.
As each night comes upon me,
Can I rejoicing say,
"Dear Reaper, I've been faithful
To all I have met today?"
Even as gold in a furnace,
I must be purified.
Trials alone bring patience,
Hate must be met by love;
Faith is wrought out in darkness
Reaching to things above.
Ah! could I only trust Him,
His presence and power to aid,
Even 'mid deepest shadows
I would not be afraid.
Though the four winds be loosened,
And tempests around me roared,
I'd welcome the glorious privilege
Of dying with my dear Lord.
I WAS LONGING TO SERVE MY MASTER.
I WAS longing to serve my Master,
But, alas! I was laid aside
From the busy and happy workers,
Who toiled in the field so wide.
They were few, yes, few in number,
And I could not understand
Why I should be kept inactive,—
It was not as I had planned.
I was longing to serve my Master,
Oh, this was my one fond thought,
For this I was ever pleading,
When His footstool in prayer I sought;
And the seasons of sweet communion
Were few and far apart,—
Not of Him so much as His service,
Were the thoughts that filled my heart.
I was longing to serve my Master,—
He led to a desert place
And there as we stopped and rested
His eyes looked down in my face,
So full of tender reproaching,
That filled me with sad surprise.
Did He think I had grudged my service
And counted it sacrifice?
"Oh, Master, I long to serve Thee,
The time is so short at best,
Let me go to the field," I pleaded,
"I care not to stay and rest!"
I knelt at His feet, imploring,
I gazed in His face above;
"My child," He said gently, "your service
Is nothing without your love."
My mind was so full of service,
I had drifted from Him apart,
And He longed for the old confiding,
The union of heart with heart.
I sought and received forgiveness,
While mine eyes with tears were dim,
And now tho' the work is still precious,
The first place is kept for Him.
NOT NOW, MY CHILD.
CUMBERED WITH MUCH SERVING.
"A CUP OF COLD WATER."
THE Lord of the Harvest walked forth one day,
Where the fields were white with the ripening wheat,
Where those He had sent in the early morn
Were reaping the grain in the noonday heat.
He had chosen a place for every one,
And bidden them work till the day was done.
Apart from the others, with troubled voice,
Spake one who had gathered no golden grain:
"The Master hath given no work to me,
And my coming hither hath been in vain;
The reapers with gladness and song will come,
But no sheaves will be mine in the harvest home."
He heard the complaint, and He called her name:
"Dear child, why standest thou idle here?
Go fill the cup from the hillside stream,
And bring it to those who are toiling near;
I will bless thy labor, and it shall be
Kept in remembrance as done for Me."
'Twas a little service, but grateful hearts
Thanked God for the water so cold and clear;
And some who were fainting with thirst and heat,
Went forth with new strength to the work so dear;
And many a weary soul looked up,
Revived and cheered by the little cup.
"THEY also serve who only stand and wait."
Behold me here,
Dear Lord! With eager, watchful eye and quick attentive ear,
I stand, and if a message Thou wouldst send o'er land or sea—
(Today, tomorrow, night or day), Lord, here am I, send me!
But, if in Thine all-wisdom, Thou shouldst choose another one,
My heart in swift submission shall respond, Thy will be done!
Let me learn well the lesson that Thy blessed Word doth teach,
To rest in humble silence, not to murmur, nor to reach
For what appears my service, with an over-confident zeal,
But watch and pray until Thy will for me Thou shalt reveal;
Thus patient, waiting ever, keeping very close to Thee,
Perhaps, dear Lord, some wondrous day Thou wilt have need of me!
HE THAT SCATTERETH INCREASETH.
IS thy cruise of comfort failing?
Rise and share it with another,
And through all the years of famine
It shall serve thee and thy brother.
Love Divine will fill thy storehouse,
Or thy handful still renew;
Scanty fare for one will often
Make a royal feast for two.
For the heart grows rich in giving;
All its wealth is living grain;
Seeds which mildew in the garner,
Scattered, fill with gold the plain.
Is thy burden hard and heavy?
Do thy steps drag wearily?
Help to bear thy brother's burden;
God will bear both it and thee.
Numb and weary on the mountains,
Wouldst thou sleep amid the snow?
Chafe that frozen form beside thee,
And together both shall glow.
Art thou stricken in life's battle?
Many wounded round thee moan;
Lavish on their wounds thy balsams,
And that balm shall heal thine own.
MY HEART'S DESIRE.
A LITTLE LIGHT.
'TWAS but a little light she bore,
While standing at the open door;
A little light, a feeble spark,
And yet it shone out through the dark
With cheerful ray, and gleamed afar
As brightly as the polar star.
A little light, a gentle hint,
That falls upon the page of print,
May clear the vision, and reveal
The precious treasures doubts conceal,
And guide men to an open door,
Where they new regions may explore.
A little light dispels the gloom
That gathers in the shadowed room,
Where want and sickness find their prey,
And night seems longer than the day,
And hearts with many troubles cope
And feebler glows the spark of hope.
And when the sheaves are gathered in,
We may be sure, in that blissful day,
To sowers and reapers Christ will say,—
"You who well toiled and labored and bore,
And zealously sought for more and more
Of God's blessed work,—
I know "to obey and to hearken"
Ofttimes proves the greater test,—
At Thy feet would I lie forever,
If thus I might serve Thee best!
MY ONE TALENT.
THE TIME IS SHORT.
GO, LABOR ON.
THE CHANGED CROSS.
Change one letter, then I see
That the thwarting of my purpose
Is God's better choice for me.
His appointment must be blessing,
Tho' it may come in disguise,
For the end from the beginning
Open to His wisdom lies.
"No good thing will He withhold,"
From denials oft we gather
Treasures of His love untold.
Well He knows each broken purpose
Leads to fuller, deeper trust,
And the end of all His dealings
Proves our God is wise and just.
Lord, I take it, then, as such.
Like the clay in hands of potter,
Yielding wholly to Thy touch.
All my life's plan is Thy moulding,
Not one single choice be mine;
Let me answer, unrepining—
Father, "Not my will, but Thine."
PERFECT THROUGH SUFFERING.
GOD never would send you the darkness,
If He felt you could bear the light;
But you would not cling to His guiding hand,
If the way were always bright;
And you would not care to walk by faith,
Could you always walk by sight.
'Tis true He hath many an anguish,
For your sorrowful heart to bear,
And many a cruel thorn-crown,
For your poor, tired head to wear;
He knows how few would reach heaven at all,
If pain did not guide them there.
So He sends you the blinding darkness,
And the furnace of seven-fold heat:
'Tis the only way, believe me,
To keep you close to His feet—
For 'tis always so easy to wander,
When our lives are glad and sweet.
Then nestle your hand in your Father's
And sing, if you can, as you go;
Your song may cheer some one behind you,
Whose courage is sinking low;
And, well, if your lips do quiver—
God will love you better so.
IN the days of mine early learning,
With tears mine eyes were wet:
I tried so hard to remember,
I feared so much to forget.
But now that the sweet and the bitter,
The "tares" and the "wheat" are met,
I cry, "Alas! I remember,
Would God that I might forget!"
SOMETIMES I ALMOST WONDER.
SOMETIMES I almost wonder if my Lord doth really know
About the many little things that wound my poor heart so.
I can but wonder if He knows the anguish of my soul,
When tempests beat upon my head, and surging billows roll;
I wonder if He hears at night my weary, longing sighs,
I wonder if He sees the tears that tremble in mine eyes!
I wonder if my burdens weigh upon His tender heart,
And in my many sorrows, if His great love shares a part!
Ah! no, I will not wonder, I will silence every fear,
I've read that "in His bottle He doth treasure up each tear,"
I know that He who heeds the smallest sparrow when it falls,
Will surely, surely hearken when His own child feebly calls;
I know that He who stilled the waves on Galilee's dark sea,
Will bid the storms of life, "Be still," that rudely threaten me.
Ah! no, I do not wonder, I am sure my Lord doth know
"My purposes are broken off; even the thoughts of my heart."—
MY purposes are broken off,
So be it, blessed Lord;
With wisdom and with wondrous Love
Thy purposes are stored.
The thoughts of my poor heart give place
To Thy great plan for me;
In all Thy ways my soul can trace
Thy mercy rich and free.
My purposes are broken off,
Dear Lord, 'tis better so;
For higher are Thy ways than mine,
Who to the end dost know.
I praise Thee still though broken off
My purposes may be;
For in Thy glory I shall know
Thy will was best for me.
MASTER, I am so glad Thou knowest all
Outspoken joys, and sorrow's hidden pain.
I am so glad my path is known to Thee,
And that Thou wilt my wayward steps restrain.
I place my hand in Thine. Oh, hold it fast!
Nor heed my cry whene'er I ask amiss.
Lord, when the thorns of earth pierce sharp and deep,
And I instead would choose the scented rose,
Let me recall Thy tender, watchful love,
And that mine inmost need Thy wisdom knows.
Ah, who can tell how far our feet might stray?
We are so prone to wander from Thy side,
If not hedged in by Thine eternal arms,
And made within Thy sheepfold to abide.
I am so glad Thou knowest all, dear Lord!
My life but poorly proves what lips confess,
And well I know none but a Father could
So frail an offering with such mercy bless.
Thou knowest all! This is my cradle, Lord,—
The shadow of Thy wings, 'neath which I sleep.
Not for my goodness, but Thine own great love,
Thou wilt in peace Thy child securely keep.
GOD'S PERFECT PEACE.
LIKE a river glorious is God's perfect peace,
Over all victorious in its glad increase.
Perfect; yet it floweth fuller every day;
Perfect; yet it groweth deeper all the way.
Stayed upon Jehovah, hearts are truly blest,
Finding, as He promised, perfect peace and rest.
Every joy or trial cometh from above,
Traced upon our dial by the Sun of love.
We may trust Him solely, all for us to do;
They who trust Him wholly, find Him wholly true.
Stayed upon Jehovah, hearts are truly blest,
Finding, as He promised, perfect peace and rest.
BEYOND THE SHADOWS.
TEMPTED AND TRIED.
TEMPTED and tried, oh! the terrible tide
May be raging and deep, may be wrathful and wide;
Yet its fury is vain, for the Lord will sustain,
And forever and ever Jehovah shall reign.
Tempted and tried, yet the Lord at thy side
Will guide thee, and keep thee, tho' tempted and tried.
Tempted and tried, there is One at thy side
And never in vain shall God's children confide.
He will save and defend, for He loves to the end,
Adorable Master, and glorious Friend.
Tempted and tried, whatever betide,
In His secret pavilion His children shall hide.
'Neath the shadowing wing of eternity's King,
His children may trust, yea, His children may sing.
Tempted and tried, yet the Lord will abide,
Thy faithful Redeemer, and keeper, and guide,
Thy shield and thy sword, thine exceeding reward;
Then enough for the servant to be as his Lord.
Tempted and tried, the Savior who died
Hath called thee to suffer—then reign by His side.
THE MASTER'S TOUCH.
OUR LIVES ARE WHAT WE MAKE THEM.
"YOUR FATHER KNOWETH WHAT THINGS YE HAVE NEED OF."
HIS WILL, NOT MINE, BE DONE.
THE purple grape must be crushed
To make the sweet, red wine,
And furnace fires must fiercely burn,
The drossy gold to refine;
The wheel must cruelly grind,
Else where the jewel's light?
And the steel submit to the polishing,
Or how would the sword grow bright?
How then, my soul, wilt thou
The Spirit's fruits possess,
Except thou lovingly yield thyself
To the Hand that wounds to bless?
Then patiently let the fire
Consume all earthly dross—
Thou canst not hope to wear the Crown,
If thou refuse the Cross!
I CAN TRUST.
"THINK IT NOT STRANGE!"
THINK it not strange, beloved,
When fiercely burns the fiery flame!
Think it not strange, but praise His name,
Who counts thee worthy to partake
Of painful sufferings for His sake.
Nor think it strange
When loved ones scornful from thee turn,
Consider Him who thus endured,
And Immortality secured!
Think it not strange, beloved,
If sometimes every door seem closed,
And all thine efforts be opposed,
But calmly wait in patience till
The Master shall reveal His will.
Nor think it strange
When darker grows the "narrow way,"—
Press on, thy Master soon shall say,
LIFE'S STORMS ARE PASSING.
"BE OF GOOD CHEER!"
"COME UNTO ME."
O, PRODIGAL, RETURN!
"RETURN, return! thy Father's voice is pleading,
Tho' far astray, I bid thee turn again!
Thy robe is rent, thy tender feet are bleeding,
Thy heart is faint and sick with famine pain:
Return, My child: a welcome here awaits thee:
No longer in the distant country rove;
Resist the cruel tempter that belates thee,
And keeps thee from My dwelling and My love."
Thy Father's loving-kindness
Thou long hast scorned, and done His grace despite;
Yet in His touch is healing for thy blindness,
And He can turn thy darkness into light.
Return in all thy rags of sin's defilement;
Return with all thy want and sore distress;
Thy Father's voice bespeaks His reconcilement:
Flee to thy Savior, and thy guilt confess.
Thy substance hath been wasted—
Thou hast not aught to bring but thy poor heart;
Yet art thou longing for the bread once tasted.
And for His paths of peace, and faith's good part?
Return, for why shouldst thou delay the pardon
Thy Father's great compassion waits to grant!
Arise and go, before thy doubts shall harden
The homesick yearnings of the penitent.
The angel-hosts bend o'er thee—
They wait to bear the tidings' joyful sound.
They have beheld the Savior dying for thee,
And will rejoice to sing, The lost is found!
Return, for He will heal all thy backsliding—
Will love thee freely, and will thus forgive;
Come, weary soul, rest in His love abiding,
Thou hast been dead—arise today and live!
THE MUSIC OF THE REST.
IN the grand oratorios of life
God writes us unexpected rests!
These break the rush, the strain, the storm, the strife,
And are our surely needful tests!
How these are kept, not reaching for the next,
Nor clinging to the former strain,
In perfect waiting, listening for the text
To make our Master's meaning plain,
Proves or disproves our individual skill.
Some high, some low, some intermediate sing;
Each voice is needful in its part,
Though one, in solo, rise on peerless wing—
Lost in the chorus one! An art
Divinely wise, brings, here and there, a rest,
And he—I'd tell it o'er and o'er—
Sings best, who, losing self, interprets best,
THE VOICE IN THE TWILIGHT.
IN THE WILDERNESS.
BE still, and murmur not, poor heart,
When God shall lead thee to a "desert place,"
And bid thee dwell apart;
If ravens in the wilderness
Did feed the servant of the Lord, will He
For thee, His child, do less?
Nor fear, sad heart, its loneliness,—
Hath He not said, "I never will forsake
Nor leave thee comfortless?"
Have faith, thy Master may design
To fit thee thus for Kingdom work and bliss,—
And wilt thou then repine?
Be patient, let His will be done;
Be calm, be strong, that He may finish there
The work He hath begun.
"A little while," He soon will come,
And say to thee, "It is enough, my child,
My faithful one, come home!"
SOMETIME WE'LL UNDERSTAND.
PEACE, PERFECT PEACE.
"SO AS BY FIRE."
SWEET DAY OF REST.
In its weight to thine unaided strength;
For even as I laid it on, I said,
"I shall be near, and while she leans on Me,
This burden shall be Mine, not hers:
So shall I keep My child within the circling arms
Of Mine own love." Here lay it down, nor fear
To impose it on the shoulder, which upholds
The government of worlds. Yet closer come;
Thou art not near enough; I would embrace thy care,
So I might feel My child reposing on My breast.
Thou lovest Me? I know it. Doubt not then;
But, loving Me. lean hard.
ONLY A LITTLE WHILE.
WHY SHOULD I FEAR?
OUR BLESSED HOPE.
OH! TO BE READY.
OH! to be ready when death shall come,
Oh! to be ready to hasten home!
No earthward clinging, no lingering gaze,
No strife at parting, no sore amaze;
No chains to sever that earth hath twined,
No spell to loosen that love would bind.
No flitting shadows to dim the light
Of the angel-pinions winged for flight,
No cloud-like phantoms to fling a gloom
'Twixt heaven's bright portals and earth's dark tomb,
But sweetly, gently, to pass away
From the world's dim twilight into day.
SOME GLAD, SWEET DAY.
SOME day, some glad, sweet day
We shall be like our blessed Lord
And see Him as He is.
Soon we shall strain our
Weary eyes no more
To catch, beyond this earthly
House of fettering clay,
A gleam of heavenly glory
From His radiant face.
Some day, some fair, sweet day
His loving hand will wipe
Away our tears. His tender
Voice will thrill our souls
With rapture, when we
Hear Him say, "Well done,
Dear heart, well done,
My joy is thine; for thee
The victor's crown is won.
"Thou hast been faithful,
Thou hast borne the cross,
The thorns have pierced thy feet;
But now the Night is past—
The Day hath come—bright,
Glorious Day of endless joy and love.
The trial time hath proved thee true,
O, glorious Day, for thee we long!
We will be faithful, will the
Burdens bear, sustained by grace Divine.
In meek submission to Thy holy will,
Dear Lord, by faith we clasp Thy hand
As side by side we tread the Narrow Way
And wait—for it will surely come—
Some day, some dear, sweet day,
O, tarry not too long!
WAIT UPON THE LORD.
WAIT, O THOU WEARY ONE, A LITTLE LONGER.
LET me take heart! the present scene shall soon be o'er;
The clustering clouds shall hide the sun at noon no more.
The tears now dropping from mine eyes shall be forgot;
And joys, undimmed by sin and misery, my lot.
The storm now sweeping through the troubled sky be past;
The longed-for morning without clouds arise at last.
The hindmost shadow soon shall utterly depart;
Then let me watch and wait, and hopefully take heart.
A LITTLE WHILE
SWEET HARMONY AT LAST.
I SAT alone at the organ,
At the close of a troubled day,
When the sunset's crimson embers
On the western altar lay.
I was weary with vain endeavor,
My heart was ill at ease,
And I sought to soothe my sadness
With the voice of the sweet-toned keys.
My hands were weak and trembling,
My fingers all unskilled,
To render the grand old anthem
With which my soul was filled.
Through the long day's cares and worries,
I had dreamed of that glorious strain,
And I longed to hear the organ
Repeat it to me again.
Then a Master stood beside me,
And touched the noisy keys,
And lo! the discord vanished
And melted in perfect peace.
I heard the great organ pealing
My tune that I could not play,
The strains of the glorious anthem
That had filled my soul all day.
Down through the dim cathedral
The tide of music swept,
And through the shadowy arches
The lingering echoes crept;
And I stood in the purple twilight
And heard my tune again—
Not my feeble, untaught rendering,
But the Master's perfect strain.
So I think, perchance, the Master,
At the close of life's weary day,
Will take from our trembling fingers
The tune that we cannot play;
He will hear through the jarring discord
The strain, although half expressed;
He will blend it in perfect music,
And add to it all the rest.
DOUBT HIM NOT.
"FROM GLORY UNTO GLORY."
"FROM glory unto glory!"
Thank God that even here
The starry words are shining out, our heavenly way to cheer!
From "glory that excelleth" all that human heart hath known,
Our "onward, upward," shall begin in the presence of the throne.
"From glory unto glory" that ever lies before,
Still wondering, adoring, rejoicing more and more;
Still following where He leadeth, from shining field to field,
Himself the goal of glory, revealer and revealed!
Then let our hearts be surely fixed where truest joys are found,
And let our burning, loving praise yet more and more abound;
And gazing on the "things not seen," eternal in the skies,
"From glory unto glory," O Savior, let us rise!
THE DAY IS AT HAND.
POOR, fainting spirit, still hold on thy way—
The dawn is near!
True, thou art weary; but yon brighter ray
Becomes more clear.
Bear up a little longer; wait for rest;
Yield not to slumber, though with toil oppressed.
The night of life is mournful, but, look on—
The dawn is near!
Soon will earth's shadowy scenes and forms be gone;
Yield not to fear!
The mountain's summit will, ere long, be gained,
And the bright world of joy and peace attained.
THE HIDDEN CROSS.
THE multitude saw but the cross of olive-wood
The Man of Sorrows bore, nor knew how underneath,
Close-pressed upon His heart, a hidden cross He wore,—
A dark and bleeding weight of sin and human woe,
Made heavier with the sentence of God's broken law,
And crowned with thorns of scornful and malicious hate,—
A cross the world's Redeemer found on Jordan's brink,
Nor laid it down until He came to Calvary.
Ofttimes it seemed He almost craved some human aid,
Some sympathizing heart to share that cruel cross.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hadst thou but known
What time that cross bore heaviest on the yearning heart
Of Him, thy King!—And yet, O, slow of faith and hard
Of heart, "Ye would not,"—and the King passed on His way;
And of the people, there was none with Him, He trod
Alone the winepress of this dark world's shame and woe!
O, chosen three, had ye but watched with Him "one hour,"
That awful night in dark Gethsemane, ye might
Have lightened some the cruel weight of that dread cross,
Have known and shared with Him that agonizing woe,—
Alas! Alas! Your eyes were heavy, and ye slept.
So now, "sleep on and take your rest," ye weary ones,
A holy angel's wing hath eased the hidden cross,—
Your Master, strengthened, waits that other cross to bear!
Which cross bore heavier on the way to Calvary,—
The cross the cruel Roman soldiers laid upon
That blessed One? Ah! no, it was the unseen cross
That crushed Him to the earth, that wrung from those pale lips
The agonizing cry, "My God, My God, oh, why
Hast Thou forsaken Me?" In grief Earth rent her breast,
The sun grew dark. 'Tis finished, and the price is paid,—
The hidden cross had pierced that loving, tender heart!
"Take up thy cross and follow Me," the Master said.
Ah, yes, His faithful Bride must also bear a cross,—
The hidden cross, made not of life's vicissitudes
Alone, its ills and pain, its loss and poverty,—
The outward signs the multitude behold;
Ah! no, we follow in His steps, who went before
Us in the narrow way. We, too, must bear the woe,
Be touched with feeling of the world's infirmity,—
Its weary weight of sin and curse of broken law.
Let us, therefore, go forth to Him, "without the gate,"
Lay down our lives in sacrifice, spend and be spent,
And, while we clasp this cross more closely to our breast,
Press on toward Calvary, for there our Bridegroom waits
To take the cross of woe, and give the Crown of Joy!
ONE HERE, ONE THERE.
OF all we meet in life's great stream,
There's but one here and there
Who treasures most the better things;
Each man to self most tightly clings,
For self he toils, for self he sings,
Except one here, one there.
The world would be a desolate place,
But for one here and there,
Whose heart with self hath not been filled,
Whose love for God hath not been killed,
Whose thankful praise hath not been stilled;
There's one such here and there.
'Tis not the numbers that He seeks,
But just one here, one there;
He seeks not souls, but jewels fair,
For those who will His suff'ring share,
And for His sake reproaches bear;
They're few; one here, one there!
THE BRIDEGROOM'S DOVE.
The bridegroom speaks to whom?
Whom think'st thou, meaneth He?
Say, O my soul! canst thou presume
He thus addresseth thee?
Yes, 'tis the Bridegroom's voice of love,
Calling thee, O my soul! His Dove!
"SHE HATH DONE WHAT SHE COULD."
THE Feast was spread at Simon's house, and as they sat at meat,
A woman came and silent stood within the open door—
Close pressed against her throbbing heart an alabaster box
Of purest spikenard, costly, rare, she held. With modest fear,
She dreaded to attract the curious gaze of those within,
And yet her well-beloved Friend was there, her Master, Lord.
With wondrous intuition she divined that this might be
Her last, her only opportunity to show her love;
She thought of all that He had done for her, the holy hours
She spent enraptured at His feet, unmindful of all else,
If only she might hear those words of Truth, those words of Life.
She thought of that dark hour when Lazarus lay within the tomb
And how He turned her night to day, her weeping into joy.
Her fair face flushed, with deepening gratitude her pure eyes shone;
With swift, light step she crossed the crowded room. She bravely met
Those questioning eyes (for Love will find its way through paths where lions
Fear to tread); with trembling hands she broke the seal and poured
The precious contents of the box upon her Savior's feet,
And all the house was filled with fragrance wonderful and sweet.
She could not speak, her heart's devotion was too deep, her tears
Fell softly, while she took her chiefest ornament, her long
And silken hair and wiped His sacred feet,—when suddenly
A rude voice broke the golden silence with, "What waste! this might
Have sold for much, to feed the poor!" She lower bent her head—
To her it seemed so mean a gift for love so great to make!
Again a voice re-echoed through the room, her blessed Lord's,
(He half arose and gently laid His hand upon her hair)—
And how it thrilled her fainting heart to hear Him sweetly say,
"Rebuke her not, for she hath wrought a good work, what she could;
Aforehand, to anoint Me for my burying, she hath come,
And this her deed of love throughout the ages shall be told!"
How oft since first I read the story of this saint of old,
My own poor heart hath burned with fervent, longing, deep desire,
That I might thus have ministered unto my Lord and King—
"The chiefest of ten thousand, altogether lovely One."
And now, to learn—oh! precious thought, 'tis not too late, I still
May pour Love's priceless ointment on "the members" of His Feet!
Dear Lord, I pray, oh! help me break with sacrificial hand
The seal of Self, and pour the pent-up odors of my heart
Upon Thy "Feet!" Oh! let me spend my days and nights in toil,
That I, perchance, may save from needless wandering, and help
To keep them in the narrow way that leads to light and life.
Oh! let me lay within their trembling hands a rose of love.
A lily's pure and holy inspiration on their breast!
Dear Master, let me kneel with them in dark Gethsemane;
Oh! help me boldly stand and meekly bear the scoffs and jeers
Of cruel, mocking tongues! Oh! may I count no cost, e'en life
Itself, too great to serve, to bless, to comfort Thy dear "Feet,"
And when the last drop of my heart's devotion hath been shed,
Oh, may I hear Thy sweet voice say, "She hath done what she could!"
MY BEAUTIFUL SECRET.
WITHIN my hand I gently hold the Garden's Queen, a rose,—
The softly-sighing summer wind about it faintly blows,
And wafts its wondrous fragrance out upon the evening air.
And as I gaze upon the rose, so perfect and so fair,
In memory's halls there wakes, the while, a legend, quaint and old,
How once upon a time, one day, a sage picked up, we're told,
A lump of common clay, so redolent with perfume rare,
The while the legend stirs my soul, within my hand still lie
The petals of the rose, and from my heart of hearts I cry,
"Thou lovely Rose of Sharon, may I ever dwell with Thee,
So closely that the fragrance of Thy love shall cling to me!
Oh, fill me with the spirit of Thy sweet humility,
Then all shall see and know, dear Lord, that I have learned of Thee;
And let mine earthly pilgrimage, until its blessed close,
Each day and hour bear witness, I've been dwelling with the Rose!"
COUNT each affliction, whether light or grave,
God's Messenger sent down to thee; do thou
With courtesy receive Him; rise and bow;
And, ere His shadow pass thy threshold, crave
Permission first His heavenly feet to lave;
Then lay before Him all thou hast; allow
No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow
Or mar thy hospitality, no wave
Of mortal tumult to obliterate
Thy soul's marmoreal calmness. Grief should be
Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate,
Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free;
Strong to consume small troubles; to commend
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end.
THE MINISTER'S DAUGHTER.
GOD IN NATURE.
THE spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue, ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim:
The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display;
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale;
And nightly, to the listening earth,
Repeats the story of her birth;
While all the stars that 'round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
What though, in solemn silence, all
Move 'round this dark terrestrial ball,—
What though no real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found,—
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing as they shine,
"The hand that made us is Divine."
IN THE GARDEN OF THE LORD.
LAST night I dreamed the Master came to me and gently said,
"Beloved, lay thy cross aside, and come with me awhile,
For I would have thee rest within the garden of the Lord."
And then He took my trembling hand and led me through the gloom
Until we came to where a massive gateway barred our path,—
The gates were closed, but opened at the Master's sweet command.
We entered, and the shadows fled before His radiant smile,—
Oh, vision rapturous, can words be found to tell how fair!
Ten thousand roses beckoned with Love's crimson hue, and round
About our feet the violets nestled in their purple grief;
While velvet pansies, clothed in royalty, together grew
With lovely, clinging, pink and white sweet peas, and close beside,
The lilies of the valley bent in sweet humility,—
And everywhere, the tender grass, a carpet soft and cool.
At last we came to where a stately lily stood,
Its snowy crown uplifted like a chime of silvery bells,
Whose swaying filled the garden with a fragrance sweet and rare.
We closer drew, and then I saw, alas! how here and there
A petal fair was torn and brown, as though by some rude wind
Or scorching heat. I wondered greatly at the sight, and then turned,
The question on my lips,—when suddenly there rose a storm
So fierce that every flower in the garden bent its head;
And then a shower of flaming arrows, hurled by shadowy forms
Outside the garden's ivy-covered walls, rained down upon
The lilies, while I clung in terror to my Heavenly Guide.
A moment only did the storm prevail, and then I heard
The Master's "Peace, be still!" The tempest ceased, and there was calm,
The wondrous light grew dim, the garden vanished,—and I woke.
And then the thought,—if in this garden I might choose my place,
Would I be like the rose? Ah! no, lest in my passionate zeal
To show by works my heart of love, I should forget the thorns,
Dear Lord, and wound Thy loving hand! Ah! then, perhaps I would
The lily be, and sound Thy blessed Truth o'er land and sea
In clear-toned eloquence. Ah! no, I might not bear the storms
That beat upon the one whose head Thou hast uplifted far
Above his fellows,—and a shining mark for Satan's darts!
And thus I thought on each and all that garden's lovely ones,
Then cried, "My blessed Lord, if I might choose, Oh, let me be
The tender grass, that I may rest and soothe Thy weariness,—
A lowly place, safe-sheltered from the wind and fiery dart,—
What rapture this,—to lay down life itself beneath Thy Feet!"
OUR BURDEN BEARER.
Tell Him about the heartache,
And tell Him the longings, too;
Tell Him the baffled purpose,
When we scarce know what to do.
Then, leaving all our weakness
With the One divinely strong,
Forget that we bore the burden,
And carry away the song.
"WITHIN THE VEIL."
HOMESICK for Heaven?
and longing for its rest?
And does the way seem long that leads thee there?
Lift up thine eyes! The "veil" is growing thin
That separates us from its glories rare.
But yesterday a dear one passed beyond—
"Within the veil"—and entered into rest;
And as she passed we caught a radiant glimpse,
As sunset glory shineth in the West.
Another link is added to the chain
Of precious gold that draws us surely Home,
Another strand is twined with the cord
Of love that holds us so we may not roam.
Yes, one by one His saints are passing o'er,
His loved, from shadows into Heaven's pure light,
Into the joy of His dear presence, where
They feel no more the darkness of earth's night.
We see our Master, our beloved Lord,
And lift to Him our rapturous songs of praise.
So near we are, we almost catch the strains
Of heavenly music from celestial choirs.
Can we not bide with patience one more hour?
We've almost reached the goal of our desires!
Then let us not go mourning on our way,
But let our hearts be light, our faces glad,
These pressing burdens we shall soon lay down
Forevermore; why, then, should we be sad?
"A cloud of witnesses" behold our course
With interest intense, and shall we fail?
Our race is almost run;—Lord, nerve our hearts,
And scatter every doubt that doth assail.
So clarify our clouded vision, Lord,
So lift our thoughts and hearts to things above,
That earthly woes shall have no power to vex,
Nor separate us from Thy grace and love.
While still we toss on life's tempestuous sea,
Shield from the rocks our tiny barques so frail,
Stand at the helm and guide us safely till
We, too, are anchored safe "within the veil!"
DEEDS, NOT WORDS.
THE ANGEL OF GETHSEMANE.
'TWAS midnight, and the Man of Sorrows took His chosen three,
And sought with weary step the shelter of Gethsemane
To pray, His soul exceeding sorrowful, e'en unto death,
And heavy laden with the sin and woe of all the world.
In agony of bloody sweat He fell upon His face,
And cried, with tears, "My God, My Father, if it be Thy will,
Oh, let this cup of shame and numbering with transgressors pass,—
If it be possible! Yet not My will, but Thine be done!"
And then His thoughts turned to the sacrifice,—a fear bore down
With agonizing weight upon His heart, lest to comply
With every jot and tittle of the Law, He might have failed!
He saw the priestly type, He knew eternal death awaited,
Should He seek to pass the second veil unworthily.
Eternal death! Oh, anguish inexpressible, to see
No more His Father's face!
He sought His well-beloved three,
Perchance they might refresh His fainting heart with some sure word
Of prophecy. Alas! Their eyes were heavy and they slept.
Three times He sought them, and three times in vain! Yet He was heard
In that He feared. The Father sent a heavenly comforter
To touch with tender, strengthening hand that dear, devoted head,
And whisper, "I, the LORD, in righteousness have called Thee, I
Will hold Thine hand, and keep Thee. Neither shalt Thou ' fail nor be
Discouraged.' Lo, Thou art 'a Priest forever, and a King
Upon Thy throne, like to Melchizedec.' And 'Thou shalt see
The travail of Thy soul, and shalt be satisfied.' "
His heart revived, He knew His Father's faithful Word could never fail;
He knew it would accomplish that whereunto it was sent.
He rose, and from that hour went forth to trial and to death,
In peace,—a calmness born of perfect confidence in God.
The Father's "little ones" have knelt in sad Gethsemane
To pray! E'en now the Garden's shade re-echoes with the cry
Of God's elect, "How long, oh, Lord, how long until we see
The travail of our soul? How long until Thou shalt avenge
Thine own elect, who cry to Thee, with tears, both night and day?"
Dear Lord, oh, use me as the Angel in Gethsemane!
Oh, fill me with Thy holy Spirit of Divinest love!
Oh, make me sympathetic, wise, that every anguished heart
May come, nor seek in vain for consolation from Thy Word,
And strengthened, comforted, go forth to prison or to death,
To suffer patiently the cruel mockings of the tongue;
To bear the cross unto the bitter end, then calmly say,
" 'Tis finished," and with faith unwavering pass beneath "the veil!"
COURAGE! MORNING DAWNS.
THE SWEET-BRIER ROSE.
THE FIELD OF BATTLE.
TO grasp the two-edged sword, and forward rush upon the foe,
To hear the Captain's cry, to see the flash of answering eyes,
To feel the throbbing hearts of battling comrades in the ranks,—
That rapturous inspiration know, of warring for the Right,
The holy joy of following Him who points and leads the way!
Ah! yes, 'tis glorious thus to fight the goodly fight, and yet,
Methinks, beyond the firing line, beneath those snowy tents,
A fiercer conflict rages night and day, where trembling hands,
Wan lips and fever-lighted eyes do battle with a host
Of deadly foes,—grim giants, Doubt and Disappointment, fierce
Despair,—before whose fiery darts the bravest well might quail!
They also hear the call, and hoarsely cry, "Lord, here am I!"
They strive to reach their swords, to struggle to their feet, but back
In helpless agony of weakness on their pallets fall,
With brain afire, and reason tottering on its throne, their tears,
Of anguish flow! Sometimes the noise of battle sweeps beyond
The range of those poor, straining ears, and then the spectre Fear
Stalks through the room, and lays an icy hand upon each heart:
The awful thought, Our Captain hath forsaken and forgot,
Our comrades forge ahead, they leave us here alone to die!
But no! the Lord of Battles is most merciful, He sends
A swift-winged messenger: "Yea, though a mother may forget
Her sucking child, yet will I not forget!" Then, like the calm
That cometh after storm, sweet peace and quiet reign within
Those troubled breasts, and so He giveth His beloved sleep.
And send betimes to them a white-winged messenger of cheer.
Oh, give Love's roses now, nor keep them for the coffin's lid,
(A single flower is sweeter far than thousands by and by);
Take time to speak a tender word, to shed a pitying tear,
Or breathe, at least, a prayer throughout the watches of the night,
And thus prove more than conquerors through the power of deathless love!
THE COMING OF HIS FEET.
IN the crimson of the morning, in the whiteness of the noon,
In the amber glory of the day's retreat,
In the midnight, robed in darkness, or the gleaming of the moon,
I listen to the coming of His feet.
I heard His weary footsteps on the sands of Galilee,
On the Temple's marble pavement, on the street,
Worn with weight of sorrow, faltering up the slopes of Calvary,
The sorrow of the coming of His feet.
Down the minster aisles of splendor, from betwixt the cherubim,
Through the wondering throng, with motion strong and fleet,
Sounds His victor tread approaching, with a music far and dim—
The music of the coming of His feet.
Sandaled not with sheen of silver, girded not with woven gold,
Weighted not with shimmering gems and odors sweet,
But white-winged and shod with glory in the Tabor light of old—
The glory of the coming of His feet.
OUR HEAVENLY HOME.
TO little children "home" is that dear place where Mother is,
Where every wound doth ever find the healing kiss of love,
And little sobbing hearts are soothed to rest upon her breast.
In later years that dear word "home" awakes the precious thought
Of loving wife and happy little ones, and peace and rest,—
A refuge sweet where outside cares and worries cannot come.
And when the sun of life is sinking in the west we dream
Of "home" as that blest gathering place where often through the year
Our children, and their children, come with wealth of grateful love,
That makes our hearts forget the pain and toil of former years.
The thought of "home" belongs to that most heavenly place where God,
And Christ, and all the holy angels are, where sorrow finds
No place, and every longing heart is fully satisfied;
Where we shall love and serve Him perfectly, and meet again,
Nor ever part from fellow-pilgrims on "the narrow way;"
Where we shall sit with Christ upon His throne, and bless with peace
And joy the whole creation, groaning now in pain and tears!
And year by year the golden chain grows longer, that doth draw
Us closer to our heavenly home, as one by one, "the priests"
In silence pass beneath "the veil"—each one an added link.
Ah! then, to gain an entrance to that blest abode shall we
Not count the present things but "loss and dross," and lightly touch
Each object that might hold our heart's affections to this earth,—
For where our treasure is, e'en there our hearts will also be!
ALL THINGS NEW.
THERE is something in the sunlight
Which I never saw before;
There's a note within the robin's song
I did not hear of yore;
There's something—ah! I know not what!
But something everywhere
That makes the world this morning seem
Most marvelously fair!
I awakened very early
And I watched the sun arise,
And it seemed to me that heaven
Must be dawning in the skies;
For a glory and a gladness,
Passing words of mine to show,
Flashed from out the eastern portals
On the waking world below.
All the water gleamed with gladness;
Every streamer in the sky
Seemed the arms of little children
Flung in joyousness on high;
All the birds on all the bushes
Joined their melody to pour—
Surely never was a morning
Ushered in like this before!
Ah! I care not!
Doth it matter?
'Tis enough for me to know
That the world to me is gladder
Than it was a year ago.
That on earth and sky and water
Lies a radiance, false or true,
That shall never fade or falter,
Never be less strange or new!
If my heart thus gilds creation
Well it may, for it is glad,
Past the power of shade or shining
Any more to make it sad.
Never yet on earth or heaven,
Never yet on land or sea,
Shone the light of that great gladness
Which my God hath given me.
LIGHT AND TRUTH.
THE light is ever silent;
It sparkles on morn's million gems of dew,
It flings itself into the shower of noon,
It weaves its gold into the cloud of sunset,
Yet not a sound is heard; it dashes full
On yon broad rock, yet not an echo answers;
Truth, too, with noiseless grandeur
Upon its heavenly mission goeth forth.
It shines upon a sin-polluted earth
Until its vileness doth so vile appear,
That men despise, then banish it from sight.
It shineth on, till 'neath its rays benign
The buds of heav'nly virtue do appear,
And earth gives promise of a summer time.
And so 'twill ever shine, till fruit and flower
Of virtue, peace and praise bedeck the earth.
WHAT is Eternity?
Paint its duration to the thought?
Tell every beam the sun emits,
When in sublimest noon he sits;
Tell every light-winged mote that strays
Within its ample round of rays;
Tell all the leaves and all the buds
That crown the gardens, fields and woods;
Tell all the spires of grass the meads
Produce, when spring propitious leads
The new-born year.
Be this astonishing account
Augmented with the full amount
Of all the drops the clouds have shed,
Where'er their watery fleeces spread
Through all Time's long-protracted tour.
Tell all the sands the ocean laves;
Tell all the changes of its waves,
Or tell, with more laborious pains,
The drops its mighty mass contains.
Were there a belt that could contain
In its vast orb the earth and main;
With figures were it clustered o'er,
And not one cipher in the score;
And could thy laboring thoughts assign
The total of the extended line;
How vast the amount, the attempt how vain,
To read duration's endless chain;
Then think of life thou mayst attain,
Through years eternal to remain,
And the love which bought it all for thee
When thou wert doomed no life to see;
And grace which to its boundless store
Adds endless blessings evermore:
And when thy cup of joy runs over,
Let songs of praise rise to the Giver.
"EARTH to earth, and dust to dust!"
Here the evil and the just,
Here the youthful and the old,
Here the fearful and the bold,
Here the matron and the maid
In one silent bed are laid.
Here the vassal and the king,
Side by side, lie withering:
Here the sword and scepter rust:
"Earth to earth, and dust to dust!"
Age on age hath rolled along,
O'er this pale and mighty throng;
Those that slumber, those that sleep,
The grave shall soon no longer keep.
Brothers, sisters of the worm,
Summer's sun, or winter's storm,
Song of peace, or battle's roar,
Ne'er could break their slumbers more;
But a conflict's coming fast,
Earth, thy mightiest and thy last!
It shall come in fear and wonder,
Heralded by trump and thunder;
It shall come in strife and toil;
It shall come in blood and spoil;
It shall come in empire's groans,
Burning temples, trampled thrones.
Then, Ambition, rue thy lust!
"Earth to earth, and dust to dust!"
Then shall come the judgment sign;
In the east the King shall shine;
Flashing from Heaven's golden gate,
Thousands, thousands round His state,
Kings and Priests with crown and plume.
Tremble, then, thou solemn tomb;
Heaven shall open on our sight;
Earth be blest with wondrous light,
Kingdom of the ransomed just!
"Earth to earth, and dust to dust!"
Then thy Mount, Jerusalem,
Shall be gorgeous as a gem:
Then shall in the desert rise
Fruits of more than Paradise,
Earth by saintly feet be trod,
One great garden of her God!
Till are dried the martyr's tears
Through a thousand glorious years.
THE WRATH OF GOD.
THE DIVINE WEAVING.
SEE the mystic Weaver sitting
High in Heaven—His loom below;
Up and down the treadles go.
Takes, for web, the world's dark ages,
Takes, for woof, the kings and sages,
Takes the nobles and their pages,
Takes all nations and all stages.
Thrones are bobbins in His shuttle,
Armies make them scud and scuttle—
Web into the woof must flow;
Up and down the nations go!
At the Weaver's will they go!
Calmly see the mystic Weaver
Throw His shuttle to and fro;
'Mid the noise and wild confusion,
Well the Weaver seems to know
What each motion, and commotion,
What each fusion, and confusion,
In the grand result will show!
What a weaving!
To the dull, beyond believing!
Such no fabled ages know,
Only faith can see the Mystery,
How along the aisles of history,
Where the feet of sages go,
Loveliest to the fairest eyes,
Grand the mystic tapet lies!
Soft and smooth, and ever-spreading,
As if made for angels' treading—
Tufted circles touching ever:
Every figure has its plaidings,
Brighter forms and softer shadings,
Each illumined—what a riddle—
From a cross that gems the middle.
'Tis a saying—some reject it—
That its light is all reflected;
That the tapet's lines are given
By a Sun that shines in Heaven!
'Tis believed—by all believing—
That great God, Himself, is weaving,
Bringing out the world's dark Mystery,
In the light of faith and history;
And, as web and woof diminish,
Comes the grand and glorious finish,
When begin the Golden Ages,
Long foretold by seers and sages.
"IN DUE TIME."
IN Thy due time, our Heavenly Father, shall be known
Thy gracious plan, which now is hid
Except unto Thy saints alone.
O glorious day, when Thine All-wisdom, justice, power and love,
The whole creation shall approve!
In God's due time, O pilgrim on the "narrow way,"
Thy painful journey ended, darkest
Night shall turn to brightest day;
Thine every trial, then, thine every tear, shall prove a gem
To beautify thy diadem!
In His due time, O weary, groaning, sin-cursed Earth,
The Lord will wipe away thy tears,
And bring the promised "second birth;"
And there shall be no pain, nor any death in that blest day
When sin and sorrow flee away!
In His due time angelic choirs shall sing again
In grander strain that heavenly message,
"Peace on earth, good will toward men!"
And every knee shall bow, and every loving heart confess
The Christ who comes to reign and bless!
In judgments oft misunderstood,
In ways mysterious and obscure,
He brings from evil lasting good,
And makes the final gladness sure.
While Justice takes its course with strength,
Love bids our faith and hope increase:
He'll give the chastened world at length
His afterward of peace.
When the dread forces of the gale
His sterner purposes perform,
And human skill can naught avail,
Against the fury of the storm,
Let loving hearts trust in Him still,
Through all the dark and devious way;
For who would thwart His blessed will,
Which leads through night to joyous day?
Be still beneath His tender care;
For He will make the tempest cease,
And bring from out the anguish here
An afterward of peace.
Look up, O Earth; no storm can last
Beyond the limits God hath set;
When its appointed work is past,
In joy thou shalt thy grief forget.
Where sorrow's plowshare hath swept through,
Thy fairest flowers of life shall spring,
For God shall grant thee life anew,
And all thy wastes shall laugh and sing.
Hope thou in Him, His plan for thee
Shall end in triumph and release;
Fear not, for thou shalt surely see
His afterward of peace.
The Garden's lonely shade the world's
Redeemer sought that night. He went alone to pray
For grace and strength to drink the last drop in His Cup.
Great souls crave solitude in sorrow's hour. Not e'en
His well-beloved three might share the sacredness
Of that deep woe,—He bade them tarry, while He went
A little farther on, and fell upon His face.
Gethsemane! A solitary place, apart,
No mortal feet may press in sympathy that dark,
Encrimsoned earth. No human hand the fevered brow
May cool, no other heart can share its agony,
No voice but God's may break the solemn silence there,—
A place where every soul must drink alone the Cup
The Father's hand hath poured, and given to His child.
A desert place, alone, apart?
Ah, no! The anguished heart doth never cry in vain
To Him who marks the smallest sparrow when it falls,
For He shall send His Angel with the message, "Fear
Thou not, for I am with thee! I will ne'er forsake,
Nor let thee fail! My right hand shall uphold, My love,
My power shall keep thee, even to the bitter end!"
"IN EVERYTHING GIVE THANKS."
WE thank Thee, Lord, for raiment, and we thank Thee for our food,
We thank Thee for our shelter, O, Thou Giver of All Good;
We thank Thee for the day on which our eyes first saw the light,
We give Thee thanks for every sense, for hearing and for sight.
We thank Thee for the sunshine, and we thank Thee for the rain,
We thank Thee for the pleasure and we thank Thee for the pain.
We thank Thee for the friends we've won, and for the friends we've lost,
We thank Thee for the heart-aches which these separations cost.
We thank Thee for the tender love which makes us clearly see
That every severed heart-string hath but drawn us nearer Thee.
We thank Thee for forgiveness when we fail in word or deed,
We praise Thee for sufficient grace in every time of need.
We thank Thee, oh, we praise Thee for Thy good and precious Word,
We bless Thee for the wondrous faith its promises have stirred.
We thank Thee for the glorious Hope of Immortality—
Our hearts are longing, Lord, with Thee to dwell eternally!
We thank Thee for "That Servant," for the love of each dear Saint,
We bless Thee for their fellowship when heart and strength grow faint.
And thus we give Thee thanks, dear Lord, for each and every thing,
And pray that Thou wilt keep us safe beneath Thy sheltering wing!
SOUL, let nothing make thee fretful,
Nothing bitter or regretful.
Heart, keep sweet, keep sweet!
And all day long
E'en from the moment of thy waking,
Let a song
Keep welling from a heart that's breaking,
Soul, keep sweet, keep sweet!
BEYOND THE VEIL.
"ARE YE ABLE?"
ARE ye able to walk in the narrow, strait way,
With no friend by your side, and no arm for your stay?
Can ye bravely go on through the darkening night?
Can ye patiently wait till the Lord sends the Light?
Are ye able to crush your soul's longing for Love,
Will ye seek for no friendship save that from above?
Can ye pass through this world, lone, unnoticed, unknown,
While your faith faintly whispers, "He knoweth His own?"
Can ye smile as His dear voice says tenderly "No,"
When "the field is so white," and your heart yearns to go?
Can ye rest then in silence, contented and still,
Till your Lord, the Chief Reaper, revealeth His will?
Are ye able to lay on the "Altar's pure flame
That most treasured possession, your priceless good name?
Can ye ask of your Father a blessing for those,
Who see naught in your life but to scorn and oppose?
When the conflict twixt Error and Truth fiercer grows,
Can ye wield the strong "Sword" against unnumbered foes?
Can ye lift up the "Standard" e'en higher and higher,
While His praises ye sing in the midst of the fire?
When ye see the Lord's cause going down to defeat,
Will your courage endure in the seven-fold heat?
Will your faith keep you steadfast, though heart and flesh fail,
As the New Creature passes beneath the last "Veil?"
Ah, if thus ye can drink of the Cup He shall pour,
And if never the Banner of Truth ye would lower,
His Beloved ye are, and His crown ye shall wear,
In His Throne ye shall sit, and His Glory shall share!
"ASLEEP IN JESUS."
"ASLEEP in Jesus."
Blessed God, Thy love
And mercy, oh, how great! That Thou shouldst hide
My loved one in the grave until Thy wrath
Be overpast!—Ah, yes, dear heart, sleep well,
Sleep well, no dreams disturb thy deep repose.
"Asleep in Jesus."
Undisturbed, the while
Earth's breast is rent by "Armageddon's" strife,
And all creation travails in the pangs
That must precede her glorious "second birth."
Sleep well beneath His overshadowing wings.
Sleep well, sleep well, until His Kingdom comes.
"The ransomed of the Lord shall then return,"
And He shall bid thee waken out of sleep.
A Highway shall be there, a Way of Life,
And thou, dear heart, with joy shalt walk thereon,
Up, up, until perfection's goal is won,
Where there shall be no pain, nor any death,
When God's dear hand shall wipe all tears away.
In this blest hope I lay thee down to rest;
Good night, dear heart, 'twill not be long, sleep well!
MY frail barque rudely tosses on the sea,
In terror, Lord, I feebly cry to Thee,
"Increase my faith, as darker grows the night,
Oh, make me strong in Thee and in Thy might!"
He hears my prayer, He answers, with a smile,
"We're almost home, have faith a little while!"
Nor sun nor moon nor any star is seen,
Not e'en the faintest rift of blue between;
The chilling waters deeper, darker flow,
The storm-clouds lower, the winds more wildly blow—
Yet hark! Above the strife His voice, so mild,
"Be brave, be strong, we're almost home, My child!"
Do eager hands lie folded on thy breast,
And hath the Lord of Harvest bid thee rest?
Dost see the happy laborers go by,
Nor canst refrain a tear or longing sigh?
Be calm, poor heart, and sink into His will—
"We're almost home, dear child, lean harder still!"
"BE THOU FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH."
FAITHFUL when with tears thine eyes are dim,
Faithful when Joy's cup o'erflows its brim;
Faithful when God seems to veil His face,
Faithful when He crowns thy work with grace.
Faithful, though thy loved ones turn aside,
Lips that praised thee once, in harshness chide;
Faithful, though success enwreathe thy brow,
Faithful, should the world before thee bow.
Faithful till hath fled life's fleeting breath,
Eager hands lie folded still in death.
"Faithful unto death!"
Lord, day by day,
Help me thus to keep the narrow way!
Strengthen me to bear the scorn and shame—
Portion of all those who take Thy name.
"Faithful unto death!" When all is done,
Cross is changed to Crown, the victory won,
Let me hear Thee say, O blessed Lord,
"Child, come enter into thy reward!
Faithful thou hast been, come share with Me
Glory, Honor, Immortality!"
THE TIME, MY SOUL, IS SHORT!
"HOW LONG, OH, LORD, HOW LONG?"
I long to see Thy face,
I long for Thine embrace—
How long, Lord, till I come
To my long-promised home?
Not long, my child, not long,
Be brave, be true, be strong!
The Day-star doth appear,
The Kingdom draweth near!
"A LITTLE WHILE."
"WHAT SHALL I RENDER UNTO THE LORD?"
WHAT shall I render, Lord, to Thee,
For all Thy benefits toward me?
For life and every earthly good,
For raiment, shelter, daily food;
For light and truth, for peace and love,
For heavenly wisdom from above?
How great Thy bounties unto me!
What have I that is not from Thee?
For all these benefits toward me,
What shall I render, Lord, to Thee?
The Cup Thy hand of love hath poured,
I'll humbly take, most gracious Lord,
And call upon Thy holy name
To help me Thy great Plan proclaim;
I'll spend my days in ceaseless praise,
And tell abroad Thy wondrous ways!
"Salvation's Cup"—of suffering, too—
Of suffering with God's chosen few,
Dear Lord, I'll drink of this, Thy Cup,
And smiling through my tears, look up—
A mingled Cup of grief and joy,
Of blessedness without alloy,
Of love and fellowship divine,
A foretaste of the Kingdom-wine.
That all, dear Lord, may know and see
Thy countless benefits toward me,
Before Thy congregation, now,
I'll pay my consecration Vow;
And in Thy strength, supplied each day,
I'll strive to walk the narrow way
That leads to rest and God and Thee,
And blissful immortality!
"AND SITTING DOWN, THEY WATCHED HIM THERE."
SITTING down, they watched Him there,
Watched Him, fairest of the fair,
Gazed with cold, unpitying eye,
While the jeering crowd passed by;
For His vesture cast a lot
(Seamless robe, without a spot)—
Watched the "Man of Sorrows" there,
Who the world's great sin must bear,
Watched while darkness veiled the sun,
Watched until He cried, "'Tis done!"
God of Heaven! forbid that I
Thus should gaze with pitiless eye
On a suffering child of Thine,
Watch him while his foes malign,
Watch him while his life-blood flows,
Watch until the dark day's close;
Grant me, Lord, a heart of love,
Make me like a tender dove,
Let me bring him strength and peace,
Until death shall send release!
THE SOLITARY WAY.
How few may know the grace it takes
To tread the solitary way! Alone!
Ah, yes, alone! No other human heart
Can understand the nameless sorrows there—
The nights in weeping spent, and yet, when dawns
The day, to greet the world with radiant smile,
And scatter sunshine while you whisper low
To your poor heart, "Canst bear a little more?"
Poor heart, and dost thou question, Why?
Dost think it strange that thou must walk this way?
Ah, no! Thou dost but follow in His steps
Who went before, and of the people there
Was none with Him! Alone? Yet not alone—
Hath not thy blessed Lord and Master said,
"My presence shall go with thee"? Ah, my soul,
No longer, then, a solitary way!
IF WE COULD BUT KNOW.
"YET WILL I REJOICE IN THE LORD."
THOUGH the fig-tree shall not blossom,
Though the olive's labor fail,
Though a murrain, sore and grievous,
Smite the herd on hill and dale—
Yet my soul shall bless and praise Him,
And my faith shall still prevail!
Though He slay me, I will trust Him,
Though my very heart He break,
For I know with loving wisdom
He hath planned the way I take—
Thus my dying breath shall bless Him,
And I'll praise Him when I wake!
"MY PRESENCE SHALL GO WITH THEE AND I WILL GIVE THEE REST."
ALMIGHTY God, the Lord of Heaven and Earth,
O Thou, the Source and Center of each sphere,
The Lord of Being, throned afar, Whose hand
Upholds the weight of worlds, yet, wondrous thought!
Nor day nor night too occupied to note
E'en when a sparrow falls to earth, Whose eyes
A watch-care keep o'er every child of Thine;
Whose guardian angels daily shape the course
Of those who love Thee more than life itself;
Whose chastening rod doth guide them in the way
That leads to endless life!—how sweet to feel
Thy presence ever near, to know that Thou
Dost never sleep nor slumber while Thy child
In time of need doth feebly cry to Thee.
O Thou, in Whom no shade of turning lies,
Thou changeless and unvariable One!
Though all unfaithful prove, yea, though the earth
And heavens depart, by faith we clasp Thy hand,
We calmly rest our weary hearts on Thee,
Assured that Thou will ne'er forsake, that we
Shall be forever precious in Thy sight!
DEAR Lord, I pray for courage, strength and love,
For that pure wisdom, promised from above,
That I may faithful be and worthy found
To stand "that day" beside the grass-grown mound
Of my beloved dead, and say, "Arise!
Come forth to light and life, lift up thine eyes!
Awake and burst the prison bands of death!
Stand up, the God of Heaven restores thy breath!
Return unto the land that gave thee birth—
No longer, as of old, a sin-cursed earth—
The desert places blossom as the rose,
With fragrance laden, every breeze that blows!
A Highway thou shalt find, a way of life,
No pride, nor selfishness, no envy, strife,
Shall prosper there; the ransomed of the Lord
Shall walk thereon, obedient to His Word;
No longer shall the 'lion' or 'ravenous beast'
Upon the poor, the weak, the innocent feast;
There God shall wipe all tears from every eye,
No grief shall touch thine heart, not e'en a sigh,
And there shall be no death, nor any pain!
Awake! Rejoice and join the glad refrain—
'Hosanna, peace on earth, good will toward men,
All honor to the Lamb. Amen! Amen!'"
"LIKE AS A FATHER PITIETH."
No tear ever falls, when the heart's wound is sore,
But the Lord's tender heart keenly suffered the more;
No cup His hand pours, which He fills to the brim,
But His own loving lips were pressed first to its rim.
ALMIGHTY God, the Lord of being, throned afar, the Source
And Center of each sphere, hear Thou in Heaven, Thy dwelling place,
A humble suppliant's prayer! Oh, bless and keep and guard and guide
The "man in linen with the writer's inkhorn by his side";
Oh, hold him closely to Thy heart, beneath Thy sheltering wing,
And set him, Heavenly Father, as a seal upon Thine arm!
And make his heart as pure as that sweet flower of Eastertide.
Oh, keep him meek and lowly, humbly lying at Thy feet,
A broken and emptied vessel, for the Master's use made meet.
Oh, touch his lips with coal of fire from off Thine altar, Lord,
As he shall seek Thy Truth to speak and honor Thy dear name.
O blessed Jesus, stretch in wondrous love Thy pitying hand,
And gently lead the "man that is Thy fellow" in the way
Thine own dear feet have trod. Oh, make him more and more like Thee,
Thou chiefest of ten thousand, altogether lovely One!
Fulfil to him Thy promise, if he suffer, he shall reign,
And when his course is finished, may he hear Thy sweet "Well Done!"
As yearns the mother's heart to shield from every ill her child,
So fain would I, but I am weak, my Father, do Thou keep
His eyes from tears, his feet from falling and his soul from death!
Be Thou to him a Sun and Shield in Satan's darkest hour,
Let angel hosts encamp about his going out and in,
By day, by night, today, tomorrow and forevermore, In Jesus' name. Amen!
COMING BY AND BY.
A BETTER day is coming, a morning promised long,
When truth and right, with holy might, shall overthrow the wrong;
When Christ the Lord will listen to every plaintive sigh,
And stretch His hand o'er sea and land, with justice by and by.
The boast of haughty tyrants no more shall fill the air,
But age and youth shall love the truth and speed it everywhere.
No more from want and sorrow shall come the hopeless cry,
But war shall cease, and perfect peace will flourish by and by.
The tidal wave is coming, the Year of Jubilee;
With shout and song it sweeps along, like billows of the sea,
The jubilee of nations shall ring through earth and sky;
The dawn of grace draws on apace—'tis coming by and by.
"THE WORLD IS OLD WITH CENTURIES."
THE world is old with centuries,
But not for these she bows her head;
Close to her heart the sorrow lies:
She holds so many dead!
Sad discords mingle in her song,
Tears fall upon her with the dew,
The whole creation groans—How long
Ere all shall be made new?
Yet brightly on her smiles the sun,
A bounteous heaven delights to bless;
O! what shall be that fairer one,
Wherein dwells righteousness?
O happy world! O holy time!
When wrong shall die, and strife shall cease,
And all the bells of heaven chime
With melodies of peace.
No place shall be in that new earth
For all that blights this universe;
No evil taint the second birth—
There shall be no more curse.
Ye broken-hearted, cease your moan;
The day of promise dawns for you;
For He who sits upon the throne
Says, "I make all things new."
We mourn the dead, but they shall wake!
The lost, but they shall be restored!
O! well our human hearts might break
Without that sacred word!
Dim eyes, look up! sad hearts, rejoice!
Seeing God's bow of promise through,
At sound of that prophetic voice:
"I will make all things new."
CLEAR THE WAY.
MEN of thought, be up and stirring
Night and day.
Sow the seed, withdraw the curtain,
Clear the way.
Men of action, aid and cheer them
As you may.
There's a fount about to stream;
There's a light about to beam;
There's a warmth about to glow;
There's a flower about to blow;
There's a midnight blackness changing
Men of thought, and men of action,
Clear the way!
Once the welcome light hath broken,
Who shall say
What the unimagined glories
Of the day?
What the evil that shall perish
In its ray?
Aid the dawning, tongue and pen;
Aid it, hopes of honest men;
Aid it, paper; aid it, type;
Aid it, for the hour is ripe;
And our earnest must not slacken
Men of thought, and men of action,
Clear the way!
Lo! a cloud's about to vanish
From the day;
Lo! the right's about to conquer—
Clear the way!
Many a brazen wrong to crumble
With that right shall many more
Enter smiling at the door;
With the giant wrong shall fall
Many others, great and small,
That for ages long have held us
For their prey.
Men of thought, and men of action,
Clear the way!
THE DAY OF HIS PREPARATION.
Peace, mild-eyed seraph; knowledge, light Divine,
Shall send their messengers by every line.
Men joined in amity shall wonder long
That hate had power to lead their fathers wrong;
Or that false glory lured their hearts astray,
And made it virtuous and sublime to slay.
How grandly now these wonders of our day
Make preparation for Christ's royal way,
And with what joyous hope our souls
Do watch the ball of progress as it rolls,
Knowing that all, completed or begun,
Is but the dawning that precedes the sun!
THE PEACE OF EUROPE.
"GREAT peace in Europe.
From Tiber's hills to Danube's plains!"
So say her kings and priests; so say
The lying prophets of our day.
Go, lay to earth a listening ear;
The tramp of measured marches hear,—
The rolling of the cannon's wheel,
The shotted musket's murderous peal,
The night alarm, the sentry's call,
The quick-eared spy in hut and hall!
From polar sea and tropic fen
The dying groans of exiled men!
The bolted cell, the galley's chains,
The scaffold smoking with its stains!
Order,—the hush of brooding slaves!
Peace,—in the dungeon-vaults and graves!
O Fisher! of the world-wide net,
With meshes in all waters set,
Whose fabled keys to heaven and hell
Bolt hard the patriot's prison cell,
And open wide the banquet hall
Where kings and priests hold carnival!
Speak, Prince and Kaiser, Priest and Czar!
If this be peace, pray what is war?
White angel of the Lord! unmeet
That soil accursed, for thy pure feet.
Never in Slavery's desert flows
The fountain of thy charmed repose;
No tyrant's hand thy chaplet weaves
Of lilies and of olive-leaves;
Not with the wicked shalt thou dwell,
Thus saith the Eternal Oracle;
Thy home is with the pure and free!
Stern herald of thy better day,
Before thee to prepare thy way,
The Baptist shade of Liberty,
Gray, scarred, and hairy-robed, must press
With bleeding feet the wilderness!
O that its voice might pierce the ear
Of priests and princes while they hear
A cry as of the Hebrew seer:
Repent! God's Kingdom draweth near!
THE COMING STORM.
O SAD is my heart for the storm that is coming;
Like eagles the scud sweepeth in from the sea;
The gull seeketh shelter, the pine trees are sighing,
And all giveth note of the tempest to be.
A spell hath been whispered from cave and from ocean,
The shepherds are sleeping, the sentinels dumb,
The flocks are all scattered on moorland and mountain,
And no one believes that the Master is come.
He's come, but whom doth He find their watch keeping?
O where—in His presence—is faith the world o'er?
The rich, every sense in soft luxury steeping;
The poor, scarce repelling the wolf from the door.
O man, and O maiden, drop trifling and pleasure,
O! hark, while I tell of the sorrows to be,—
As well might I plead in the path of yon glacier,
Or cry out a warning to wave of the sea!
A LIFE WELL SPENT.
SOFTLY, oh, softly, the years have swept by thee,
Touching thee gently with tenderst care;
Sorrow and death they have often brought nigh thee,
Yet have they left thee but beauty to wear;
Growing old gracefully,
Past all the winds that were adverse and chilling,
Past all the islands that lured thee to rest;
Past all the currents that urged thee unwilling,
Far from thy course to the home of the blest;
Growing old peacefully,
Peaceful and blest.
Never a feeling of envy and sorrow
When, the bright faces of children are seen;
Never a year from the young wouldst thou borrow—
Thou dost remember what lieth between;
Growing old willingly,
Rich in experience that angels might covet;
Rich in a faith that hath grown with thy years;
Rich in a love that grew from and above it,
Soothing thy sorrows and hushing thy fears;
Growing old wealthily,
Loving and dear.
Hearts at the sound of thy coming are lightened,
Ready and willing thy hand to relieve;
Many a face at thy kind word hath brightened—
"It is more blessed to give than receive."
Growing old happily,
Ceasing to grieve.
HE was better to me than all my hopes,
He was better than all my fears;
He made a bridge of my broken works
And a rainbow of my tears.
The billows that guarded my sea-girt path
Carried my Lord on their crest;
When I dwell on the days of my wilderness march
I can lean on His love for the rest.
He emptied my hands of my treasured store,
And His covenant love revealed;
There was not a wound in mine aching heart,
But the balm of His breath hath healed,
Oh, tender and true was the chastening sore,
In wisdom that taught and tried,
Till the soul He sought was trusting in Him
And nothing on earth beside.
The crooked was straight and the rough made plain
As I followed the Lord alone.
I praise Him still for the pleasant palms
And the water-springs by the way;
For the glowing pillars of flame by night
And the sheltering cloud by day.
And if to warfare He calls me forth,
He buckles my armor on,
He greets me with smiles and a word of cheer
For battles His Sword hath won;
He wipes my brow, as I droop and faint,
He blesses my hand to toil;
Faithful is He as He washes my feet
From the trace of each earthly soil.
There is light for me on the trackless wild
As the wonders of old I trace,
When the God of the whole earth went before
To search me a resting place.
Hath He changed for me? Nay, He changeth not;
He will bring me by some new way,
Through fire and flood and each crafty foe
As safely as yesterday.
Never a watch in the dreariest halt
But some promise of love endears;
I read from the past that the future shall be
Far better than all my fears,—
Like the golden pot of the wilderness bread,
Laid up with the blossoming rod,
All safe in the ark with the Law of the Lord
In the covenant care of my God.
THESE MANY YEARS.
THESE many years!
What lessons they unfold
Of grace and guidance through the wilderness,
From the same God that Israel of old
In the Shekinah glory did possess.
How faithful He, through all my griefs and fears
And constant murmurings, these many years!
God of the Covenant!
From first to last,
From when I stood within that sprinkled door,
And o'er my guilt the avenging angel passed,
Thy better angel hath gone on before;
And naught but goodness all the way appears,
Unmerited and free these many years!
Thy presence wrought a pathway through the sea;
Thy presence made the bitter waters sweet;
And daily have Thy hands prepared for me
Sweet, precious morsels—lying at my feet.
'Twas but to stoop and taste the grace that cheers,
And start refreshed, through all these many years!
What time I thirsted and earth's streams were dry,
What time I wandered and my hope was gone,
Thy hand hath brought a pure and full supply,
And, by a loving pressure, lured me on.
How oft that hand hath wiped away my tears
And written "Pardoned!" all these many years!
Lord, what I might have been, my spirit knows—
Rebellious, petulant, and prone to stray;
Lord, what I am, in spite of flesh and foes,
I owe to grace that kept me in the way.
Thine be the glory! Merit disappears,
As back I look upon these many years.
Thine be the glory!
Thou shalt have the praise
For all Thy dealings, to my latest breath;
A daily "Ebenezer" will I raise,
And sing "Salvation" through the vale of death—
To where the crown, the golden harp appears,
There to rehearse Thy love through endless years!
"THREE GATES OF GOLD."
LET every thought thy lips would utter pass three gates of gold,—
But, if through these it fails to pass, then let it not be told;
And o'er each gate in silver letters written thou wilt find,
Above the first one, "Is it true?" the second, "Is it kind?"
And "Is it necessary?" o'er the third one and the last.
Then guard thy thoughts, let none escape, save those these gates have passed!
IS IT RAINY, LITTLE FLOWER?
THE YEAR BEFORE US.
STANDING at the portal of the opening year,
Words of comfort meet us, hushing every fear;
Spoken through the silence by our Father's voice,
Tender, strong and faithful, making us rejoice.
Onward, then, and fear not, children of the day;
For His Word shall never, never pass away.
"I, the Lord, am with thee, be thou not afraid;
I will help and strengthen, be thou not dismayed.
Yea, I will uphold thee with Mine own right hand;
Thou art called and chosen in My sight to stand."
Onward, then, and fear not, children of the day;
For His Word shall never, never pass away.
For the year before us, oh, what rich supplies!
For the poor and needy, living streams shall rise;
For the sad and mournful, shall His grace abound;
For the faint and feeble, perfect strength be found.
Onward, then, and fear not, children of the day;
For His Word shall never, never pass away.
He will never fail us, He will not forsake;
His eternal covenant He will never break;
Resting on His promise, what have we to fear?
God is all-sufficient for the coming year.
Onward, then, and fear not, children of the day;
For His Word shall never, never pass away.
NEW YEAR'S WISHES.
A HAPPY NEW YEAR.
A BRIGHT new year and a sunny track
Along an upward way;
And a song of praise on looking back,
When the year hath passed away;
Amid golden sheaves, nor small, nor few:
This is my new year's wish for you.
THE NEW LEAF.
HE came to my desk with a quivering lip—
The lesson was done—
"Dear teacher, I want a new leaf," he said,
"I have spoiled this one."
In place of the leaf, so stained and blotted,
I gave him a new one, all unspotted,
And into his sad eyes smiled—
"Do better now, my child."
I went to the throne with a quivering soul—
The old year was done—
"Dear Father, hast Thou a new leaf for me?
I have spoiled this one."
He took the old leaf, stained and blotted,
And gave me a new one, all unspotted,
And into my sad heart smiled—
"Do better now, My child."
MAY Heaven sustain thee day by day,
And make thy generous heart of love
Rejoice through all the pleasant way
That God directs thy feet to move,
Inclining thee, just, generous, true,
Nobly thy Christian work to do;
Honored and loved and blessed of God,
O! sweet may be the pathway trod;
May heavenly light around thee shine,
Divinely blessing thee and thine!
SO let it be!
The prayer that Christ enjoins
Live ever in our soul and on our tongue!
So let it be! The worship He assigns—
Our great Creator—with thanksgiving song,
From hearths, in temples, yea, the woods among,
Pour forth! So let it be! As drooping vines
Drink the reviving shower, so sink along
Our hearts His precepts! Lo, one word enshrines
Full attestation of our faith! "Amen"
Includes the sum of our assent, and bears
The seal of truth: it is the wing of prayers,
Speeding the voice of millions, not in vain,
To God's high throne, borne on seraphic airs,
To ratify in Heaven our glorious gain!
POEMS OF DAWN.
A Cup of Cold Water............................... 161
A Dirge............................. George Croly 252
A Happy New Tear.................................. 295
A Life Well Spent................................. 285
A Little Light.................................... 165
A Little Talk with Jesus.......................... 98
A Little While*................................... 210
A Little While............... Gertrude W. Seibert 268
All Things New.................................... 248
Almost Home.................. Gertrude W. Seibert 265
Amen, Amen......................... F.G. Browning 77
"And Sitting Down, They Watched Him There"........
............................. Gertrude W. Seibert 270
A Perfect Trust................................... 66
A Prayer..................... Gertrude W. Seibert 118
A Prayer for Perfect Love......................... 119
A Present Help.................... L.M. Alexander 31
Are Ye Able?................. Gertrude W. Seibert 263
Ascend, Beloved................................... 207
"Asleep In Jesus"............ Gertrude W. Seibert 264
A Solitary Way.................................... 48
Believe Good Things of God........................
Be Of Good Cheer............. Gertrude W. Seibert 189
Be Strong......................................... 134
"Be Thou Faithful Unto Death".....................
............................. Gertrude W. Seibert 266
"Be Vigilant"*.................................... 130
Beyond the Shadows............(Lizzie C. Ramsdell 179
Beyond the Veil.............. Gertrude W. Seibert 262
Bringing Home the Flock............ Sarah Doudney 68
Broken Purposes......................(A.G. Fisher 177
Build a Little Fence Around To-day................ 231
Christ, All in All................................
Christ, Our Teacher............................... 28
Christ Within..................................... 27
Clear the Way......... Charles Mackay............ 280
"Come Unto Me"............... Gertrude W. Seibert 190
Coming By-and-By.................................. 278
Communion with Our Father..... Lizzie C. Ramsdell 116
Consolation.................. Gertrude W. Seibert 198
Count Your Blessings.............................. 131
Courage! Morning Dawns............................ 239
Courage! My Soul.................... Paul Fleming 72
Courage! Press On................................. 42
Cumbered With Much Serving........................ 160
Deeds, Not Words.................................. 236
Deliverance*........................ Bishop Heber 284
Divine Guidance..................... H.M. Kimball 122
Doubt Him Not..................................... 213
E'en Sorrow, Touched by Heaven....................
E'en Through Harsh Noises of Our Day.............. 129
Endurance............................ W.C. Bryant 135
Enter In*......................................... 166
Evening Prayer............... Gertrude W. Seibert 117
Even So, Father.................. Mrs. M.R. Smith 73
Father, Take My Hand.............................. 113
Filled with Christ's Fulness........ Dwight Pratt 89
Follow the Pattern*............................... 63
From Glory Unto Glory.............. F.R. Havergal 213
Full Consecration................................. 42
Gethsemane................... Gertrude W. Seibert 259
Gideon's Army in Antitype.. Gertrude V.G. Calkins 127
Gideon's Band...................... J.F. Gelletly 44
"God Bless You!".................................. 124
God in Nature......................... J. Addison 229
God Knows......................................... 50
God's Perfect Peace............................... 178
Go, Labor On...................................... 169
Grace Sufficient*................................. 181
Great Truths.......................... Longfellow 5
Have Faith in God.................................
He Careth for You................................. 86
He Knows..................... Gertrude W. Seibert 189
He Leadeth Me..................................... 52
He Restoreth My Soul.............................. 32
Heroism............................ C.P.S. Gilman 152
He That Scattereth Increaseth....... Mrs. Charles 163
His Way Is Best................................... 81
His Veiled Angels Guard Thee........ Sidney Smith 84
His Will, Not Mine, Be Done...... Mrs. I.W. Brown 184
How Long, Oh Lord, How Long!. Gertrude W. Seibert 267
How Readest Thou?................................. 8
How Strong and Sweet My Father's Care!............ 69
Hymn of the Waldenses................ W.C. Bryant 121
I Cannot Do Withou Thee............ F.R. Havergal 108
I Can Trust....................................... 185
I Count Not His the Happiest Life................. 244
If I Could Know................................... 67
If We Could But Know......... Gertrude W. Seibert 272
If We Had But a Day............................... 137
If We Only Understood............................. 139
I Know Not the Way That's Before Me............... 109
I'll Do My Very Best............. H. Guy Carleton 145
"In Due Time"................ Gertrude W. Seibert 256
In Everything Give Thanks.... Gertrude W. Seibert 260
"In My Name"...................................... 97
"Instant in Season".......... Gertrude W. Seibert 138
In the Garden of the Lord.... Gertrude W. Seibert 232
In the Presence of the King.. Gertrude W. Seibert 143
In the Wilderness............ Gertrude W. Seibert 196
Into His Marvelous Light.......................... 91
I Offer Thee...................................... 36
Is It for Me?..................................... 90
"Is It Rainy, Little Flower?"..................... 293
It Is Not the Deed We Do.......................... 21
I Was Longing to Serve My Master.. Irma Belle Lee 157
Jesus........................ Gertrude W. Seibert 34
Jesus Only........................................ 26
Judge Not by Outward Appearance................... 144
Just for Today................ Samuel Wilberforce 114
Just to Let Thy Father Do What He Will............
................................... F.R. Havergal 82
Lead Me........................................... 112
Lean Hard........................... Paul Pastnor 200
Leave No Unguarded Place.......................... 39
Let Not Doubts O'erwhelm.......................... 25
Let Us Go Forth................... Horatius Bonar 128
Life's Storms are Passing......... Horatius Bonar 187
Light and Truth*.................................. 249
"Like as a Father Pitieth"... Gertrude W. Seibert 275
Living for Jesus.................................. 103
Lord, Give Me This!................ F.R. Havergal 102
Lord, Here I Bring Myself.... Gertrude W. Seibert 38
Lord Jesus, Make Thyself to Me.................... 184
Lord, Let Me Talk with Thee!...................... 104
Love's Alchemy.................................... 79
Loving Submission............ Gertrude W. Seibert 80
Master, Say On!................................... 120
May Heaven Sustain Thee Day by Day................ 296
Memory........................ Samuel W. Duffield 175
Mortally Wounded.................................. 100
My Beautiful Secret............................... 223
My Companion.......................... R.F. Doney 155
My Heart's Desire............ Gertrude W. Seibert 164
My Hymn................................ Saxe Holm 95
My Lord, How Full of Sweet Content................ 295
My One Talent..................................... 168
My Prayer......................................... 109
My Prayer.................... Gertrude W. Seibert 276
"My Presence Shall Go with Thee and I Will Give
Thee Rest"................... Gertrude W. Seibert 274
My Psalm........................... J.G. Whittier 287
My Sacrifice*..................................... 37
My Times are in Thy Hand.......................... 105
My Trust in Him................... George Kempson 88
Nearing the Goal............. Gertrude W. Seibert 154
New Year's Wishes.................. F.R. Havergal 294
Not I, but Christ......................... J.G.H. 29
Not Now, My Child............ Gertrude W. Seibert 159
Not Seeing, Yet Believing......................... 77
Oh! To Be Ready................................... 204
Oh! Who Shall Roll the Stone Away?................
............................. Gertrude W. Seibert 74
O, Love Divine....................... O.W. Holmes 250
O, Love, Our Refuge in Earth's Wildest Storm...... 79
One Here, One There.................. B.H. Barton 217
Only a Little While............................... 201
O, Prodigal, Return!.............................. 191
O, Soul of Mine!............. Gertrude W. Seibert 76
"O, Thou of Little Faith".... Gertrude W. Seibert 65
Our Blessed Hope.................................. 203
Our Bow of Promise.................. Mrs. Whitney 62
Our Burden Bearer................ Phillips Brooks 234
Our Heavenly Home............ Gertrude W. Seibert 246
Our Lives are What We Make Them............. C.S. 182
Our Master......................... J.G. Whittier 23
O, Use Me, Lord!................... F.R. Havergal 107
O, What, if We are Christ's?...................... 27
Patience..................... Gertrude W. Seibert 185
Peace, Perfect Peace............ E.H. Bickersteth 197
Perfect Through Suffering......................... 174
Prayer of the Consecrated......................... 103
Pray Without Ceasing*........ Mrs. F.G. Burroughs 115
Press On............................. O.W. Holmes 6
Resurrection................. Gertrude W. Seibert 275
Resurrection*....................... Theron Brown 230
Retrospection*...................... Anna Shipton 289
Right Was the Pathway............................. 51
Scatter Seeds of Kindness......................... 146
Service...................... Gertrude W. Seibert 167
"She Hath Done What She Could"....................
............................. Gertrude W. Seibert 220
Show Me Thy Face.................................. 114
"So As by Fire"................................... 199
Some Day.......................................... 188
Some Glad, Sweet Day............... L.C. Ramsdell 205
Sometimes I Almost Wonder....(Gertrude W. Seibert 176
Sometime We'll Understand......................... 196
Steadfast, Immovable.............................. 133
Strength Sufficient............................... 153
Stumbling Stones or Stepping Stones...............
.................................. Alice G. James 140
Take Time to be Holy.............................. 144
Take Heart.......................... H.G. Guiness 210
Tempted and Tried................................. 180
Tell Me About the Master.......................... 22
The Angel of Gethsemane...... Gertrude W. Seibert 237
The Bark is Wafted to the Strand..... Dean Alford 65
The Beam that Shines from Zion's Hill............. 247
The Bridegroom's Dove............................. 218
The Call Divine................................... 41
The Changed Cross................................. 170
The Coming of His Feet............................ 245
The Coming Storm.................................. 284
The Cost of Discipleship*......................... 40
The Day is at Hand................................ 214
The Day of His Preparation*....... Charles Mackay 281
The Divine Weaving................................ 255
The Field of Battle.......... Gertrude W. Seibert 241
The Hidden Cross............. Gertrude W. Seibert 215
"The Lord be with You!"........................... 101
The Lord My Shepherd.............................. 70
The Master's Touch................................ 181
The Minister's Daughter............ J.G. Whittier 226
The Music of the Rest.................. K.M. Hale 192
The Narrow Way............... Gertrude W. Seibert 46
The New Leaf...................................... 296
The Nominal Church................................ 18
The Oath-Clad Promise............................. 9
The One Loaf................. Gertrude W. Seibert 54
The Peace of Europe................ J.G. Whittier 282
The Pilgrim....................................... 47
The Pilgrim's Wants............................... 110
There Are Great Truths............................ 143
The Refining...................................... 45
There's Only One.................................. 35
The Rose..................... Gertrude W. Seibert 224
The Secret of His Presence........................ 99
These Many Years*................................. 291
The Servant's Path in a Day of Rejection.......... 148
The Solitary Way............. Gertrude W. Seibert 272
The Sweet-Brier Rose......... Gertrude W. Seibert 240
The Time Is Short*................................ 169
The Time, My Soul, is Short.. Gertrude W. Seibert 266
The Trial Hour.................... Alice G. James 125
The Transformation................. M.F. Clarkson 43
The True Church................................... 13
The Voice in the Twilight... Mrs. Herrick Johnson 193
The Watered Lilies................................ 150
The Word of God................................... 7
The Word of Truth............ Gertrude W. Seibert 6
"The World is Old with Centuries"................. 279
The Wrath of God..................... F.G. Wilson 254
The Year Before Us................. F.R. Havergal 293
"Think it not Strange"....... Gertrude W. Seibert 186
This is My Will for Thee..... Gertrude W. Seibert 96
Thou Knowest...................................... 177
"Three Gates of Gold"........ Gertrude W. Seibert 292
Thus May He Bless Thee and Keep Thee.............. 117
Thy Will Be Done............. Gertrude W. Seibert 118
To Arms!..................... Gertrude W. Seibert 271
Today I Seem to Understand........... A.P. Miller 37
To Jesus Always................ Josephine Pollard 30
Transverse and Parallel................ I.E. Page 75
True Beauty....................................... 36
Trust Him More.................................... 61
Trust in the Lord................................. 57
Wait, O Thou Weary One, a Little Longer........... 209
Wait Upon the Lord................. I.S. Cuthbert 206
Waiting...................... Gertrude W. Seibert 162
Watch and Pray.................................... 111
"What a Friend We Have in Jesus!"................. 106
What Shall I Render Unto the Lord?................
............................. Gertrude W. Seibert 269
What Would Jesus Do?*............................. 136
While Place We Seek................. Madame Guyon 53
Whom Will Ye Serve?............................... 38
Why Dost Thou Wait?............................... 56
Why Should I Fear?................. L.S. Cuthbert 202
Within the Veil................... Alice G. James 235
Woman's Mission................................... 243
Ye Curious Minds.................................. 283
"Yet Will I Rejoice in the Lord"..................
............................. Gertrude W. Seibert 273
"Your Father Knoweth What Things Ye Have
Need Of"..................... Gertrude W. Seibert 183
NOTE—Not fettered by sectarian boundary lines, we have
gathered these Poems from many sources, although the authorship
of several is not known. Some verses have been altered somewhat
to bring into full harmony with the clearer light of the
"harvest" time. (Proverbs 4:18) Those altered are indicated in
Index by the mark (*) following.
TOPICAL INDEX TO POEMS OF DAWN
THE WORD OF GOD'S TRUTH.
THE CHURCH OF CHRIST.
OUR BLESSED REDEEMER.
46, 48, 56, 57, 89, 90, 96, 98, 99, 100, 103, 104,
106, 107, 108, 120, 136, 147, 150, 180, 184, 190, 198,
203, 207, 215, 218, 220, 223, 224, 232, 234, 237, 245.
THE NARROW WAY.
109, 112, 113, 148, 154, 179, 241, 259, 263, 272.
Pages 53, 54, 55.
THE CHRISTIAN GRACES.
Pages 21, 39, 56, 57, 61, 62, 63, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70,
71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84,
86, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 100, 250.
PRAYER, WORSHIP, ADORATION.
109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118,
119, 120, 121, 122, 124, 184, 262, 264, 267, 268, 276,
137, 138, 139, 140, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 150,
152, 154, 155, 182, 231, 236, 243, 244, 254, 260, 261,
266, 269, 271, 272, 292.
167, 168, 169, 217, 241, 243.
SUFFERINGS, TRIALS, PRUNINGS.
181, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 192, 225, 234,
270, 273, 274.
197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207,
209, 210, 211, 213, 214, 239, 247, 256, 265, 266, 274,
275, 278, 280, 296.
252, 254, 255, 257, 275, 279, 281, 282, 283, 284, 285,
287, 289, 291, 295, 297.
THE COMING YEAR.