Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul (part 3 of 4)

Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul (part 3 of 4)

Never give up! it is wiser and better Always to hope than once to despair; Fling off the load of Doubt's cankering fetter, And break the dark spell of tyrannical care; Never give up, or the burden may sink you-- Providence kindly has mingled the cup; And in all trials and troubles bethink you The watchword of life must be--Never give up.

It's wiser being good than bad; It's safer being meek than fierce; It's fitter being sane than mad. My own hope is a sun will pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; That, after Last, returns the First, Though a wide compass round be fetched; That what began best, can't end worst, Nor what God blest once, prove accurst.

--Robert Browning.

Hope, Christian soul! in every stage Of this thine earthly pilgrimage, Let heavenly joy thy thoughts engage; Abound in hope. Hope through the watches of the night; Hope till the morrow brings the light; Hope till thy faith be lost in sight; Abound in hope.

God works in all things; all obey His first propulsion from the night; Wake thou and watch! the world is gray With morning light.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

When the sun of joy is hidden, And the sky is overcast, Just remember--light is coming, And the storm won't always last.

The mist denies the mountains; The wind forbids the sea; But, mist or wind, I go to find The day that calls to me.

For there are mornings yonder And noons that call and call; And there's a day with arms outheld, That waits beyond them all.

--Josephine Preston Peabody.

Open the door of your hearts, my lads, To the angel of Love and Truth When the world is full of unnumbered joys, In the beautiful dawn of youth. Casting aside all things that mar, Saying to wrong, Depart! To the voices of hope that are calling you Open the door of your heart.

--Edward Everett Hale.

A little bit of hope Makes a rainy day look gay; A little bit of charity Makes glad a weary way!

Hope, child, to-morrow, and to-morrow still, And every morrow hope; trust while you live. Hope! each time the dawn doth heaven fill, Be there to ask as God is there to give.

--Victor Hugo.

FAITH

ASSURANCE, DOUBT, UNBELIEF

THE ETERNAL GOODNESS

I bow my forehead to the dust, I veil mine eyes for shame, And urge, in trembling self-distrust, A prayer without a claim. No offering of mine own I have, Nor works my faith to prove; I can but give the gifts he gave, And plead his love for love.

I dimly guess, from blessings known, Of greater out of sight; And, with the chastened psalmist, own His judgments too are right. And if my heart and flesh are weak To bear an untried pain, The bruised reed he will not break, But strengthen and sustain.

I know not what the future hath Of marvel or surprise, Assured alone that life and death His mercy underlies. And so beside the silent sea I wait the muffled oar; No harm from him can come to me On ocean or on shore.

I know not where his islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond his love and care. And thou, O Lord, by whom are seen Thy creatures as they be, Forgive me if too close I lean My human heart on thee.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

Forgive us, Lord, our little faith; And help us all, from morn till e'en, Still to believe that lot the best Which is, not that which might have been.

And grant we may so pass the days The cradle and the grave between, That death's dark hour not darker be For thoughts of what life might have been.

THE ONE THING NEEDFUL

My prayer to the promise shall cling-- I will not give heed to a doubt; For I ask for the one needful thing Which I cannot be happy without:

A spirit of lowly repose In the love of the Lamb that was slain; A heart to be touched with his woes, And a care not to grieve him again;

The peace that my Saviour has bought, The cheerfulness nothing can dim, The love that can bring every thought Into perfect obedience to him;

The wisdom his mercy to own In the way he directs me to take-- To glory in Jesus alone, And to love and do good for his sake.

All this thou hast offered to me In the promise whereon I will rest; For faith, O my Saviour! in thee, Is the substance of all my request.

Thy word has commanded my prayer, Thy Spirit has taught me to pray; And all my unholy despair Is ready to vanish away.

Thou wilt not be weary of me; Thy promise my faith shall sustain; And soon, very soon, shall I see I have not been asking in vain.

--Anna Letitia Waring.

Ah, God! I have not had thee day and night In thought, nor magnified thy name aright, Nor lauded thee, nor glorified, nor laid Upon thine altars one poor kusa-blade! Yet now, when I seek refuge, Lord! with thee, I ask, and thou wilt give, all good to me.

--Edwin Arnold, from the Sanskrit.

ABOVE ALL, THE SHIELD

Faith fails; Then in the dust Lie failing rest and light and trust. So doth the troubled soul itself distress, And choke the fountain in the wilderness. I care not what your peace assails! The deep root is, faith fails.

Faith fails When in the breast The Lord's sweet presence doth not rest; For who believes, clouds cannot make afraid; He knows the sun doth shine behind the shade; He rides at anchor through the gales. Do you not so? Faith fails.

Faith fails; Its foes alarm, And persecution's threats disarm; False friends can scarcely wish it a good day, Before it taketh fright and shrinks away. When God doth guard, what foe prevails? Why then the fear? Faith fails.

Faith fails; Else cares would die, And we should on God's care rely. Man for the coming day doth grieve and fret, And all past days doth sinfully forget. For every beast God's care avails; Why not for us? Faith fails.

Faith fails; Then cometh fear, If sickness comes, if death is near. O man, why is it, when the times are bad And the days evil, that thy face is sad? How is it that thy courage quails? It must be this: Faith fails.

My God! Let my faith be Living, and working actively With hope and joy, that death may not surprise. So let them sweetly close my eyes; The Christian's life to death may yield-- Hope stands; faith has the field.

--S. C. Schoener.

LOOKING UNTO GOD

I look to Thee in every need, And never look in vain; I feel thy strong and tender love, And all is well again: The thought of thee is mightier far Than sin and pain and sorrow are.

Discouraged in the work of life, Disheartened by its load, Shamed by its failures or its fears, I sink beside the road; But let me only think of Thee, And then new heart springs up in me.

Thy calmness bends serene above My restlessness to still; Around me flows thy quickening life, To nerve my faltering will; Thy presence fills my solitude; Thy providence turns all to good.

Embosomed deep in Thy dear love, Held in thy law, I stand; Thy hand in all things I behold, And all things in thy hand; Thou leadest me by unsought ways, And turn'st my mourning into praise.

--Samuel Longfellow.

FAITH

If I could feel my hand, dear Lord, in thine, And surely know That I was walking in the light divine Through weal or woe;

If I could hear thy voice in accents sweet But plainly say, To guide my groping, wandering feet, "This is the way;"

I would so gladly walk therein; but now I cannot see. Oh, give me, Lord, the faith to humbly bow And trust in thee!

There is no faith in seeing. Were we led Like children here, And lifted over rock and river-bed, No care, no fear,

We should be useless in the busy throng; Life's work undone; Lord, make us brave and earnest, true and strong, Till heaven is won.

--Sarah Knowles Bolton.

DOUBTING NOTHING

Acts 10. 9-20.

Not to thy saints of old alone dost Thou In heavenly trance make known thy perfect will, But to each hungry soul thy love would fill-- Descending out of heaven, we wist not how-- Comes by thy grace the holy vision now; While we whose hearts should with the message thrill Cry "Common and unholy!" to thee still, And, uninspired, in grief before thee bow.

O Thou, whose Own the way we fare hath trod, Give to thy children quick, discerning eyes To see in life upspringing from the sod All the divineness that within it lies, Till humble service lift us to the skies Who, "doubting nothing," seek thy will, O God!

--Louise Manning Hodgkins.

THE EYE OF FAITH

I do not ask for earthly store Beyond a day's supply; I only covet more and more The clear and single eye. To see my duty face to face And trust the Lord for daily grace.

I care not for the empty show That thoughtless worldlings see; I crave to do the best I know, And leave the rest with thee; Well satisfied that sweet reward Is sure to those who trust the Lord.

Whate'er the crosses mine shall be, I will not dare to shun; I only ask to live for thee, And that thy will be done; Thy will, O Lord, be mine each day, While passing on my homeward way.

And when at last, my labor o'er, I cross the narrow sea, Grant, Lord, that on the other shore My soul may dwell with thee, And learn what here I cannot know: Why thou hast ever loved me so.

--J. J. Maxfield.

HAVE FAITH IN GOD

Have faith in God! for he who reigns on high Hath borne thy grief and hears the suppliant's sigh, Still to his arms, thine only refuge, fly. Have faith in God!

Fear not to call on him, O soul distressed! Thy sorrow's whisper wooes thee to his breast; He who is oftenest there is oftenest blest. Have faith in God!

Lean not on Egypt's reeds; slake not thy thirst At earthly cisterns. Seek the kingdom first. Though man and Satan fight thee with their worst, Have faith in God!

Go tell him all! The sigh thy bosom heaves Is heard in heaven. Strength and grace he gives Who gave himself for thee. Our Jesus lives; Have faith in God!

FAITH IN GOD

Though time may dig the grave of creeds, And dogmas wither in the sod, My soul will keep the thought it needs-- Its swerveless faith in God.

No matter how the world began, Nor where the march of science goes, My trust in something more than man Shall help me bear life's woes.

Let progress take the props away, And moldering superstitions fall; Still God retains his regal sway-- The Maker of us all.

Why cavil over that or this? One thought is vast enough for me-- The great Creator was, and is, And evermore will be.

A STRONGER FAITH

Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds, At last he beat his music out. There lives more faith in honest doubt, Believe me, than in half the creeds.

He fought his doubts and gathered strength, He would not make his judgment blind, He faced the specters of the mind And laid them; thus he came at length

To find a stronger faith his own, And Power was with him in the night, Which makes the darkness and the light, And dwells not in the light alone.

--Alfred Tennyson.

A PERFECT FAITH

O for a faith that will not shrink Though pressed by every foe, That will not tremble on the brink Of any earthly woe!

That will not murmur nor complain Beneath the chastening rod, But in the hour of grief or pain Will lean upon its God;

A faith that shines more bright and clear When tempests rage without; That when in danger knows no fear. In darkness feels no doubt;

That bears, unmoved, the world's dread frown, Nor heeds its scornful smile; That seas of trouble cannot drown, Nor Satan's arts beguile.

Lord, give us such a faith as this, And then, whate'er may come, We'll taste, e'en here, the hallowed bliss Of an eternal home.

--William H. Bathurst.

Who liveth best? Not he whose sail, Swept on by favoring tide and gale, Swift wins the haven fair; But he whose spirit strong doth still A victory wrest from every ill; Whose faith sublime On every cloud a rainbow paints-- 'Tis he redeems the time.

BELIEVE GOOD THINGS OF GOD

When in the storm it seems to thee That he who rules the raging sea Is sleeping--still, with bended knee, Believe good things of God.

When thou hast sought in vain to find The silver thread of love entwined With life's oft-tangled web--resigned, Believe good things of God.

And should he smite thee till thy heart Is crushed beneath the bruising smart, Still, while the bitter tear-drops start, Believe good things of God.

'Tis true, thou canst not understand The dealings of thy Father's hand; But, trusting what his love has planned, Believe good things of God.

He loves thee! In that love confide-- Unchanging, faithful, true, and tried; And let or joy or grief betide, Believe good things of God.

Thou canst not raise thy thoughts too high; As spreads above the earth the sky, So do his thoughts thy thoughts outvie: Believe good things of God.

In spite of what thine eyes behold; In spite of what thy fears have told; Still to his gracious promise hold-- Believe good things of God.

For know that what thou canst believe Thou shalt in his good time receive; Thou canst not half his love conceive-- Believe good things of God.

--William Luff.

BE NOT WEARY

Then, fainting soul, arise and sing; Mount, but be sober on the wing; Mount up, for heaven is won by prayer, Be sober, for thou art not there. Till death the weary spirit free, Thy God hath said 'tis good for thee To walk by faith, and not by sight, Take it on trust a little while; Soon thou shalt read the mystery right In the full sunshine of his smile.

--John Keble.

ALL'S FOR THE BEST

All's for the best; be sanguine and cheerful; Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise; Nothing but folly goes faithless and fearful, Courage forever is happy and wise.

All's for the best, if a man would but know it; Providence wishes us all to be blest; This is no dream of the pundit or poet, Heaven is gracious and all's for the best.

All's for the best; then fling away terrors; Meet all your fears and your foes in the van; And in the midst of your dangers or errors, Trust like a child, while you strive like a man.

All's for the best; unbiased, unbounded, Providence reigns from the east to the west; And, by both wisdom and mercy surrounded, Hope, and be happy, that all's for the best.

--Martin Farquhar Tupper.

BLEST IS THE FAITH DIVINE AND STRONG

Blest is the faith divine and strong, Of thanks and praise an endless fountain, Whose life is one perpetual song High up the Saviour's holy mountain.

Blest is the hope that holds to God, In doubt and darkness still unshaken; And sings along the heavenly road, Sweetest when most it seems forsaken.

Blest is the love that cannot love Aught that earth gives of best and brightest; Whose raptures thrill, like saints above, Most when its earthly gifts are lightest.

Blest is the time that in the eye Of God its hopeful watch is keeping, And grows into eternity Like noiseless trees when men are sleeping.

--Frederick William Faber.

GOD'S VOICE

Around my path life's mysteries Their deepening shadows throw; And as I gaze and ponder, They dark and darker grow; Yet still amid the darkness I feel the light is near, And in the awful stillness God's voice I seem to hear.

Thy voice I hear above me, Which says, "Wait, trust, and pray, The night will soon be over, And light will come with day." Amen! the light and darkness Are both alike to thee; Then to thy waiting servant Alike they both shall be.

That great unending future, I cannot pierce its shroud, But nothing doubt nor tremble, God's bow is on the cloud; To him I yield my spirit, On him I lay my load; Fear ends with death; beyond it I nothing see but God.

--Samuel Greg.

FLOWERS WITHOUT FRUIT

Prune thou thy words; the thoughts control That o'er thee swell and throng;-- They will condense within thy soul, And change to purpose strong.

But he who lets his feelings run In soft luxurious flow Shrinks when hard service must be done, And faints at every woe.

Faith's meanest deed more favor bears, Where hearts and wills are weighed, Than brightest transports, choicest prayers, Which bloom this hour, and fade.

--John Henry Newman.

Fair is the soul, rare is the soul Who has kept, after youth is past, All the art of the child, all the heart of the child, Holding his faith at last.

--Frank Gelett Burgess.

GOD KNOWS

God knows--not I--the devious way Wherein my faltering feet may 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.

He knoweth, too, despite my will I'm weak when I should be most strong. And after earnest wrestling still I see the right yet do the wrong. Is it that I may learn at length Not mine, but his, the saving strength?

His perfect plan I may not grasp, Yet I can trust Love Infinite, And with my feeble fingers clasp The hand which leads me into light. My soul upon his errands goes, The end I know not--but God knows.

THE LORD'S LEADING

Thus far the Lord hath led us, in darkness and in day, Through all the varied stages of the narrow homeward way; Long since he took that journey--he trod that path alone; Its trials and its dangers full well himself hath known.

Thus far the Lord hath led us; the promise hath not failed. The enemy, encountered oft, has never quite prevailed: The shield of faith has turned aside, or quenched each fiery dart, The Spirit's sword in weakest hands has forced him to depart.

Thus far the Lord hath led us; the waters have been high, But yet in passing through them we felt that he was nigh. A very present helper in trouble we have found, His comforts most abounded when our sorrows did abound.

Thus far the Lord hath led us; our need hath been supplied, And mercy hath encompassed us about on every side; Still falls the daily manna; the pure rock-fountains flow; And many flowers of love and hope along the wayside grow.

Thus far the Lord hath led us; and will he now forsake The feeble ones whom for his own it pleases him to take? Oh, never, never! earthly friends may cold and faithless prove, But his is changeless pity and everlasting love.

Calmly we look behind us, our joys and sorrows past, We know that all is mercy now, and shall be well at last; Calmly we look before us; we fear no future ill, Enough for safety and for peace, if Thou art with us still.

Yes, they that know thy name, Lord, shall put their trust in thee, While nothing in themselves but sin and helplessness they see. The race thou hast appointed us with patience we can run, Thou wilt perform unto the end the work thou hast begun.

Have you found your life distasteful? My life did and does smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I saved, and hold complete. Do your joys with age diminish? When mine fail me I'll complain. Must in death your daylight finish? My sun sets to rise again. I find earth not gray, but rosy; Heaven not grim, but fair of hue. Do I stoop? I pluck a posy; Do I stand and stare? All's blue.

--Robert Browning.

WE SHALL KNOW

In wise proportion does a fond hand mingle The sweet and bitter in our life-cup here; Each drop of either is by love eternal Poured forth in wisdom for his children dear.

The loving Father, as a wise physician, Knows what the wants of all those children are; Knows which is needed most--the joy or sorrow, The peace of comfort, or affliction's war.

Then, should the bitter be our daily portion, So that we cannot any sweet discern, Let us, in childlike faith, receive with meekness The needed tonic, and its lessons learn.

And if we cannot even that decipher, Let us be still, nay, thank him for his care, Contented that we soon shall know--hereafter-- When we the fullness of his presence share.

--Charlotte Murray.

THE STEPS OF FAITH

Know well, my soul, God's hand controls Whate'er thou fearest; Round him in calmest music rolls Whate'er thou hearest.

Nothing before, nothing behind; The steps of faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The rock beneath.

The Present, the Present is all thou hast For thy sure possessing; Like the patriarch's angel, hold it fast Till it gives its blessing.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

I am of sinfulness and sorrows full! Thou art the Mighty, Great, and Merciful! How should we not be friends, or thou not save Me who bring naught to thee who all things gave?

--Edwin Arnold, from the Sanskrit.

MY GUIDE

I know not the way I am going, But well do I know my Guide! With a childlike trust do I give my hand To the mighty Friend by my side; And the only thing that I say to him, As he takes it, is, "Hold it fast! Suffer me not to lose the way, And lead me home at last."

As when some helpless wanderer Alone in some unknown land, Tells the guide his destined place of rest, And leaves all else in his hand; 'Tis home--'tis home that I wish to reach, He who guides me may choose the way; And little I care what path I take When nearer home each day.

THE LORD'S PROVISION

In some way or other the Lord will provide; It may not be my way, it may not be thy way; And yet in his own way, "The Lord will provide."

At some time or other the Lord will provide; It may not be my time, it may not be thy time; And yet in his own time, "The Lord will provide."

Despond, then, no longer, the Lord will provide. And this be the token--no word he hath spoken Was ever yet broken: "The Lord will provide."

March on, then, right boldly; the sea shall divide; The pathway made glorious, with shoutings victorious We'll join in the chorus, "The Lord will provide."

--Mary Ann W. Cook.

It is faith, The feeling that there's God. He reigns and rules Out of this low world.

--Robert Browning.

FAITH IS THE VICTORY

Encamped along the hills of light, Ye Christian soldiers, rise, And press the battle ere the night Shall veil the glowing skies; Against the foe in vales below Let all our strength be hurled; Faith is the victory, we know, That overcomes the world.

His banner over us is love, Our sword the word of God; We tread the road the saints above With shouts of triumph trod; By faith they, like a whirlwind's breath, Swept on o'er every field; The faith by which they conquered death Is still our shining shield.

On every hand the foe we find Drawn up in dread array; Let tents of ease be left behind, And--onward to the fray; Salvation's helmet on each head, With truth all girt about, The earth shall tremble 'neath our tread, And echo with our shout.

To him that overcomes the foe White raiment shall be given; Before the angels he shall know His name confessed in heaven; Then onward from the hills of light, Our hearts with love aflame, We'll vanquish all the hosts of night In Jesus' conquering name.

--John H. Yates.

RELIGIOUS DIFFERENCES

Yes, we do differ when we most agree, For words are not the same to you and me, And it may be our several spiritual needs Are best supplied by seeming different creeds. And, differing, we agree in one Inseparable communion, If the true life be in our hearts; the faith Which not to want is death; To want is penance; to desire Is purgatorial fire; To hope is paradise; and to believe Is all of heaven that earth can e'er receive.

--Hartley Coleridge.

THE LORD WILL PROVIDE

Though troubles assail, and dangers affright, Though friends should all fail, and foes all unite, Yet one thing secures us, whatever betide, The promise assures us, "The Lord will provide."

The birds, without barn or storehouse, are fed; From them let us learn to trust for our bread: His saints what is fitting shall ne'er be denied, So long as 'tis written, "The Lord will provide."

When Satan appears to stop up our path, And fills us with fears, we triumph by faith; He can not take from us, though oft he has tried, The heart-cheering promise, "The Lord will provide."

He tells us we're weak, our hope is in vain; The good that we seek we ne'er shall obtain: But when such suggestions our graces have tried, This answers all questions, "The Lord will provide."

No strength of our own nor goodness we claim; Our trust is all thrown on Jesus's name: In this our strong tower for safety we hide: The Lord is our power, "The Lord will provide."

When life sinks apace, and death is in view, The word of his grace shall comfort us through; Not fearing or doubting, with Christ on our side, We hope to die shouting, "The Lord will provide."

--John Newton.

Art thou afraid his power will fail When comes thy evil day? And can an all-creating arm Grow weary, or decay!

IF WE BELIEVED

If we believed we should arise and sing, Dropping our burdens at his pierced feet. Sorrow would flee and weariness take wing, Hard things grow fair, and bitter waters sweet.

If we believed, what room for fear or care Within his arms, safe sheltered on his breast? Peace for our pain, and hope for our despair, Is what he meant who said, "I give thee rest."

Why linger, turn away, or idly grieve? Where else is rest--the soul's supremest need? Grandly he offers; meanly we receive. Yet love that gives us rest is love indeed.

The love that rests--say, shall it not do more? Make haste, sad soul, thy heritage to claim. It calms; it heals; it bears what erst ye bore, And marks thy burdens with his own dear name.

Carried in him and for him, can they harm Or press thee sore, or prove a weary weight? Nay, nay; into thy life his blessed calm Shall drop, and thou no more be desolate.

TO FAITH

Beside thy gracious hearth content I stay, Or with thee fate's appointed journey go; I lean upon thee when my step is slow, I wrap me with thee in the naked day.

With thee no loneliness, no pathless way; The wind is heaven's, to take as it shall blow; More than thy voice, thy hand, I need not know; I may not murmur, for I shall not stray.

WAIT ON GOD

Not so in haste, my heart! Have faith in God, and wait; Although he seems to linger long He never comes too late.

He never comes too late; He knoweth what is best; Vex not thyself, it is in vain; Until he cometh, rest.

Until he cometh, rest; Nor grudge the hours that roll; The feet that wait for God, 'tis they Are soonest at the goal.

Are soonest at the goal That is not gained by speed; Then hold thee still, O restless heart, For I shall wait his lead.

--Bradford Torrey.

BEGONE, UNBELIEF

Begone, unbelief, my Saviour is near, And for my relief will surely appear. His love in time past forbids me to think He'll leave me at last in trouble to sink.

Since all that I meet shall work for my good, The bitter is sweet, the medicine food; Though painful at present, 'twill cease before long, And then, oh, how pleasant the conqueror's song!

--John Newton.

As yonder tower outstretches to the earth The dark triangle of its shade alone When the clear day is shining on its top, So, darkness in the pathway of man's life Is but the shadow of God's providence, By the great Sun of Wisdom cast therein; And what is dark below is light in Heaven.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

Faith is a grasping of Almighty power; The hand of man laid on the arm of God; The grand and blessed hour In which the things impossible to me Become the possible, O Lord, through thee.

--Anna E. Hamilton.

There is no faith in seeing. Were we led Like children here, And lifted over rock and river bed, No care, no fear, We should be useless in the busy throng, Life's work undone; Lord, make us brave and earnest, in faith strong, Till heaven is won.

The cross on Golgotha can never save Thy soul from deepest hell; Unless with loving faith thou setts't it up Within thy heart as well.

--Scheffler, tr. by Frederic Rowland Marvin.

In vain they smite me. Men but do What God permits with different view. To outward sight they hold the rod, But faith proclaims it all of God.

--Madame Guyon.

Talk Faith. The world is better off without Your uttered ignorance and morbid doubt. If you have faith in God, or man, or self, Say so; if not, push back upon the shelf Of silence lower thoughts till faith shall come.

The body sins not, 'tis the will That makes the action good or ill.

--Robert Herrick.

Who never doubted, never half believed; Where doubt, there truth is--'tis her shadow.

--Philip James Bailey.

'Tis not the grapes of Canaan that repay, But the high faith that failed not by the way.

--James Russell Lowell.

No more with downcast eyes go faltering on, Alone and sick at heart, and closely pressed. Thy chains shall break, thy heavy heart is gone, For he who calls thee, he will "give thee rest."

--Mary Lowe Dickinson.

My God, I would not live Save that I think this gross hard-seeming world Is our misshaping vision of the Powers Behind the world that make our griefs our gains.

--Alfred Tennyson.

And all is well, though faith and form Be sundered in the night of fear. Well roars the storm to those that hear A deeper voice across the storm.

--Alfred Tennyson.

The crowd of cares, the weightiest cross, Seem trifles less than light; Earth looks so little and so low, When faith shines full and bright.

--Frederick William Faber.

A faith that shines by night and day Will lighten every earthly load.

Grant us, O God, in love to thee-- Clear eyes to measure things below, Faith the invisible to see, And wisdom thee in all to know.

Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt.

--William Shakespeare.

TRUST

GUIDANCE, SAFETY, GLADNESS

RESTING IN GOD

Since thy Father's arm sustains thee, Peaceful be; When a chastening hand restrains thee, It is he. Know his love in full completeness Fills the measure of thy weakness; If He wound the spirit sore, Trust him more.

Without murmur, uncomplaining, In His hand. Lay whatever things thou canst not Understand. Though the world thy folly spurneth, From thy faith in pity turneth, Peace thy inmost soul shall fill, Lying still.

Like an infant, if thou thinkest Thou canst stand, Childlike, proudly pushing back The offered hand, Courage soon is changed to fear, Strength doth feebleness appear; In his love if thou abide, He will guide.

Fearest sometimes that thy Father Hath forgot? When the clouds around thee gather, Doubt him not. Always hath the daylight broken; Always hath He comfort spoken; Better hath he been for years Than thy fears.

Therefore, whatsoe'er betideth, Night or day, Know His love for thee provideth Good alway. Crown of sorrow gladly take; Grateful wear it for His sake; Sweetly bending to his will, Lying still.

To his own thy Saviour giveth Daily strength. To each troubled soul that liveth, Peace at length. Weakest lambs have largest share Of the tender Shepherd's care; Ask him not the "When," or "How"; Only bow.

--Charles Rudolf Hagenbach.

I WILL TRUST

I am glad to think I am not bound to make the world go right, But only to discover and to do With cheerful heart the work that God appoints.

I will trust in him That he can hold his own; and I will take His will, above the work he sendeth me, To be my chiefest good.

--Jean Ingelow.

I KNOW NOT IF THE DARK OR BRIGHT

I know not if the dark or bright Shall be my lot; If that wherein my hopes delight Be best or not.

It may be mine to drag for years Toil's heavy chain; Or day and night my meat be tears, On bed of pain.

Dear faces may surround my hearth With smiles and glee; Or I may dwell alone, and mirth Be strange to me.

My bark is wafted to the strand By breath divine; And on the helm there rests a hand Other than mine.

One who has known in storms to sail I have on board; Above the raging of the gale I hear my Lord.

He holds me when the billows smite; I shall not fall; If sharp, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light, He tempers all.

Safe to the land, safe to the land! The end is this: And then with him go, hand in hand, Far into bliss.

--Dean Alford.

I CAN TRUST

I cannot see, with my small human sight, Why God should lead this way or that for me; I only know he saith, "Child, follow me." But I can trust.

I know not why my path should be at times So straitly hedged, so strongly barred before; I only know God could keep wide the door; But I can trust.

I find no answer, often, when beset With questions fierce and subtle on my way, And often have but strength to faintly pray; But I can trust.

I often wonder, as with trembling hand I cast the seed along the furrowed ground, If ripened fruit will in my life be found; But I can trust.

I cannot know why suddenly the storm Should rage so fiercely round me in its wrath; But this I know--God watches all my path, And I can trust.

I may not draw aside the mystic veil That hides the unknown future from my sight; Nor know if for me waits the dark or light; But I can trust.

I have no power to look across the tide, To see, while here, the land beyond the river; But this I know, I shall be God's forever; So I can trust.

The world is wide In time and tide, And God is guide; Then do not hurry. That man is blest Who does his best And leaves the rest; Then do not worry.

--Charles F. Deems.

WISDOM OF DISCIPLINE

Whate'er my God ordains is right; His will is ever just; Howe'er he orders now my cause I will be still, and trust. He is my God, Though dark my road, He holds me that I shall not fall, Wherefore to him I leave it all.

Whate'er my God ordains is right; He never will deceive; He leads me by the proper path, And so to him I cleave, And take, content, What he hath sent; His hand can turn my grief away, And patiently I wait his day.

Whate'er my God ordains is right; He taketh thought for me; The cup that my Physician gives No poisoned draught can be, But medicine due; For God is true; And on that changeless truth I build And all my heart with hope is filled.

Whate'er my God ordains is right; Though I the cup must drink That bitter seems to my faint heart, I will not fear nor shrink; Tears pass away With dawn of day; Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart, And pain and sorrow all depart.

Whate'er my God ordains is right; My Light, my Life, is he, Who cannot will me aught but good; I trust him utterly; For well I know, In joy or woe, We soon shall see, as sunlight clear, How faithful was our Guardian here.

Whate'er my God ordains is right; Here will I take my stand; Though sorrow, need, or death, make earth For me a desert land. My Father's care Is round me there; He holds me that I shall not fall, And so to him I leave it all.

--S. Rodigast.

MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND

"My times are in thy hand"; My God, I wish them there; My life, my friends, my soul, I leave Entirely to thy care.

"My times are in thy hand," Whatever they may be; Pleasing or painful, dark or bright, As best may seem to thee.

"My times are in thy hand"; Why should I doubt or fear? My Father's hand will never cause His child a needless tear.

"My times are in thy hand," Jesus, the crucified! The hand my cruel sins had pierced Is now my guard and guide.

"My times are in thy hand"; I'll always trust in thee; And, after death, at thy right hand I shall forever be.

--William F. Lloyd.

ALL FOR THE BEST

Away, my needless fears, And doubts no longer mine; A ray of heavenly light appears, A messenger divine.

Thrice comfortable hope, That calms my troubled breast; My Father's hand prepares the cup And what he wills is best.

If what I wish is good, And suits the will divine, By earth and hell in vain withstood, I know it shall be mine.

Still let them counsel take To frustrate his decree; They cannot keep a blessing back, By heaven designed for me.

Here, then, I doubt no more; But in his pleasure rest Whose wisdom, love, and truth, and power, Engage to make me blest.

--Charles Wesley.

GOD NEVER FORSAKES

Leave God to order all thy ways, And hope in him, whate'er betide, Thou'lt find in him, in evil days, Thy all-sufficient strength and guide. Who trusts in God's unchanging love Builds on the rock that naught can move.

What can these anxious cares avail, The never-ceasing moans and sighs? What can it help us to bewail Each painful moment as it flies? Our cross and trials do but press The heavier for our bitterness.

Only thy restless heart keep still, And wait in cheerful hope, content To take whate'er his gracious will, His all-discerning love, hath sent. Nor doubt our inmost wants are known To him who chose us for his own.

He knows when joyful hours are best; He sends them as he sees it meet; When thou hast borne the fiery test, And now art freed from all deceit, He comes to thee all unaware And makes thee own his loving care.

Nor in the heat of pain and strife Think God has cast thee off unheard, And that the man whose prosperous life Thou enviest is of him preferred. Time passes, and much change doth bring And sets a bound to everything.

All are alike before his face; 'Tis easy to our God most high To make the rich man poor and base, To give the poor man wealth and joy; True wonders still by him are wrought Who setteth up and brings to naught.

Sing, pray, and swerve not from his ways, But do thine own part faithfully; Trust his rich promises of grace, So shall they be fulfilled in thee. God never yet forsook at need The soul that trusted him indeed.

--George Neumarck.

Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell The dear Lord ordereth all things well.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

THE SECRET PLACE

There is a safe and secret place, Beneath the wings divine, Reserved for all the heirs of grace: O be that refuge mine!

The least and feeblest there may bide, Uninjured and unawed; While thousands fall on every side, He rests secure in God.

He feeds in pastures large and fair Of love and trust divine; O child of God, O glory's heir, How rich a lot is thine!

A hand almighty to defend, An ear for every call, An honored life, a peaceful end, And heaven to crown it all!

--Henry F. Lyte.

GOD KNOWS

Our Father! through the coming year We know not what shall be; But we would leave without a fear Its ordering all to thee.

It may be we shall toil in vain For what the world holds fair; And all the good we thought to gain Deceive, and prove but care.

It may be it shall darkly blend Our love with anxious fears, And snatch away the valued friend, The tried of many years.

It may be it shall bring us days And nights of lingering pain; And bid us take a farewell gaze Of these loved haunts of men.

But calmly, Lord, on thee we rest; No fears our trust shall move; Thou knowest what for each is best, And thou art Perfect Love.

--Eliza Cleghorn Gaskell.

Forever in their Lord abiding Who can their gladness tell; Within his love forever hiding, They feel that all is well.

NO FEAR

I know no life divided, O Lord of life, from thee; In thee is life provided For all mankind and me: I know no death, O Jesus, Because I live in thee; Thy death it is which frees us From death eternally.

I fear no tribulation, Since, whatsoe'er it be, It makes no separation Between my Lord and me. If thou, my God and Teacher, Vouchsafe to be my own, Though poor, I shall be richer Than monarch on his throne.

If while on earth I wander My heart is light and blest, Ah, what shall I be yonder, In perfect peace and rest? O blessed thought! in dying We go to meet the Lord, Where there shall be no sighing, A kingdom our reward.

--Carl J. P. Spitta.

THE LORD'S APPOINTMENT

I say it over and over, and yet again to-day, It rests my heart as surely as it did yesterday: It is the Lord's appointment; Whatever my work may be, I am sure in my heart of hearts He has offered it to me.

I must say it over and over, and again to-day For my work is different from that of yesterday: It is the Lord's appointment; It quiets my restless will Like the voice of a tender mother, And my heart and will are still.

I will say it over and over, this and every day, Whatsoever the Master orders, come what may: It is the Lord's appointment; For only his love can see What is wisest, best and right-- What is truly good for me.

TRUST

I know not what the future holds, Of good or ill for me and mine; I only know that God enfolds Me in his loving arms divine.

So I shall walk the earth in trust That He who notes the sparrow's fall Will help me bear whate'er I must And lend an ear whene'er I call.

It matters not if dreams dissolve Like mists beneath the morning sun, For swiftly as the worlds revolve So swiftly will life's race be run.

It matters not if hopes depart, Or life be pressed with toil and care. If love divine shall fill my heart And all be sanctified with prayer.

Then let me learn submission sweet In every thought, in each desire, And humbly lay at his dear feet A heart aglow with heavenly fire.

"SOMETIME"

Sometime, when all life's lessons have been learned, And sun and stars forevermore have set, The things which our weak judgment here had spurned, The things o'er which we grieve 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 reproof was love most true.

And we shall see how, while we frown 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 even as prudent parents disallow Too much of sweet to crooning baby's hest, So God perhaps is keeping from us now Life's sweetest things because it seemeth best.

And if sometimes commingled with life's wine We find the wormwood, and rebel and shrink, Be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine Poured out the potion for our lips to drink; And if some one we love is lying low, Where human kisses can not reach the face, O do not blame the loving Father so, But wear your sorrow with obedient grace,

And you will shortly know that lengthened breath Is not the sweetest gift God gives his friend; And that sometimes the sable pall of death Conceals the fairest boon his love can send. If we could push ajar the gates of life, And stand within, and all God's workings see, We could interpret all this doubt and strife, And for each mystery could find a key.

But not to-day. Then be content, poor heart, God's plans, like lilies pure and white, unfold; We must not tear the close-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 will say: "God knew the best."

--May Louise Riley Smith.

O why and whither? God knows all; I only know that he is good, And that whatever may befall, Or here or there, must be the best that could. For He is merciful as just; And so, by faith correcting sight, I bow before his will, and trust Howe'er they seem he doeth all things right.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

NOT KNOWING

I know not what shall befall me; God hangs a mist o'er my eyes, And thus each step of my onward path He makes new scenes to rise, And every joy he sends me comes As a sweet and glad surprise.

I see not a step before me As I tread on another year; But the past is in God's keeping, The future his mercy shall clear, And what looks dark in the distance May brighten as I draw near.

For perhaps the dreaded future Is less bitter than I think; The Lord may sweeten the waters Before I stoop to drink, Or, if Marah must be Marah, He will stand beside its brink.

It may be he keeps waiting Till the coming of my feet Some gift of such rare blessedness, Some joy so strangely sweet, That my lips shall only tremble With the thanks they cannot speak.

O restful, blissful ignorance! 'Tis blessed not to know, It stills me in those mighty arms Which will not let me go, And hushes my soul to rest On the bosom which loves me so!

So I go on not knowing; I would not if I might; I would rather walk in the dark with God Than go alone in the light; I would rather walk with him by faith, Than walk alone by sight.

My heart shrinks back from trials Which the future may disclose, Yet I never had a sorrow But what the dear Lord chose; So I send the coming tears back With the whispered word, "He knows."

--Mary Gardner Brainard.

"Trust is truer than our fears," Runs the legend through the moss; "Gain is not in added years, Nor in death is loss."

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

CONFIDO ET CONQUIESCO

Fret not, poor soul; while doubt and fear Disturb thy breast, The pitying angels, who can see How vain thy wild regret must be, Say, "Trust and Rest."

Plan not, nor scheme, but calmly wait; His choice is best; While blind and erring is thy sight His wisdom sees and judges right; So Trust and Rest.

Strive not, nor struggle; thy poor might Can never wrest The meanest thing to serve thy will; All power is his alone. Be still, And Trust and Rest.

Desire thou not; self-love is strong Within thy breast, And yet he loves thee better still: So let him do his loving will, And Trust and Rest.

What dost thou fear? His wisdom reigns Supreme confessed; His power is infinite; his love Thy deepest, fondest dreams above! So Trust and Rest.

--Adelaide Anne Procter.

BE CAREFUL FOR NOTHING

My spirit on thy care, Blest Saviour, I recline; Thou wilt not leave me to despair, For thou art Love divine.

In Thee I place my trust, On thee I calmly rest; I know thee good, I know thee just, And count thy choice the best.

Whate'er events betide, Thy will they all perform; Safe in thy breast my head I hide, Nor fear the coming storm.

Let good or ill befall, It must be good for me; Secure of having thee in all, Of having all in thee.

--Henry F. Lyte.

IN HIM CONFIDING

Sometimes a light surprises The Christian while he sings; It is the Lord who rises With healing on his wings. When comforts are declining He grants the soul again A season of clear shining, To cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation We sweetly then pursue The theme of God's salvation, And find it ever new. Set free from present sorrow, We cheerfully can say, Let the unknown to-morrow Bring with it what it may.

It can bring with it nothing But He will bear us through; Who gives the lilies clothing, Will clothe his people too. Beneath the spreading heavens No creature but is fed; And He who feeds the ravens Will give his children bread.

Though vine nor fig tree neither Their wonted fruit should bear, Though all the fields should wither, Nor flocks nor herds be there; Yet God the same abiding, His praise shall tune my voice; For while in him confiding, I cannot but rejoice.

--William Cowper.

TRUSTING GOD

Whoever plants a leaf beneath the sod, And waits to see it push away the clod, He trusts in God.

Whoever says, when clouds are in the sky, "Be patient, heart; light breaketh by and by," He trusts in God.

Whoever sees 'neath winter's field of snow The silent harvest of the future grow, God's power must know.

Whoever lies down on his couch to sleep, Content to lock each sense in slumber deep, Knows God will keep.

TRUST IN GOD

The child leans on its parent's breast, Leaves there its cares and is at rest; The bird sits singing by his nest, And tells aloud His trust in God, and so is blest 'Neath every cloud.

He has no store, he sows no seed; Yet sings aloud, and doth not heed; By flowing stream or grassy mead, He sings to shame Men, who forget, in fear of need, A Father's name.

The heart that trusts for ever sings, And feels as light as it had wings; A well of peace within it springs; Come good or ill. Whate'er to-day, to-morrow, brings, It is his will.

--Isaac Williams.

NO FEARS

Give to the winds thy fears; Hope, and be undismayed; God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears; God shall lift up thy head.

Through waves, and clouds, and storms, He gently clears thy way; Wait thou his time, so shall this night Soon end in joyous day.

Still heavy is thy heart? Still sink thy spirits down? Cast off the weight, let fear depart, And every care be gone.

What though thou rulest not? Yet heaven, and earth, and hell Proclaim, "God sitteth on the throne, And ruleth all things well."

Leave to his sovereign sway To choose and to command: So shalt thou, wondering, own his way, How wise, how strong his hand!

Far, far above thy thought, His counsel shall appear, When fully he the work hath wrought That caused thy needless fear.

--Paul Gerhardt.

SIMPLE TRUST

I do not know why sin abounds Within this world so fair, Why numerous discordant sounds Destroy the heavenly air-- I can't explain this thing, I must Rely on God in simple trust.

I do not know why pain and loss Oft fall unto my lot. Why I must bear the heavy cross When I desire it not-- I do not know, unless 'tis just To teach my soul in God to trust.

I know not why the evil seems Supreme on every hand: Why suffering flows in endless streams I do not understand-- Solution comes not to adjust These mysteries. I can but trust.

I do not know why grief's dark cloud Bedims my sunny sky, The tear of bitterness allowed To swell within my eye-- But, sorrow-stricken to the dust, I will look up to God and trust.

--R. F. Mayer.

ALL IS YOURS

O foolish heart, be still! And vex thyself no more! Wait thou for God, until He open pleasure's door. Thou knowest not what is good for thee, But God doth know-- Let him thy strong reliance be, And rest thee so.

He counted all my days, And every joy and tear, Ere I knew how to praise, Or even had learned to fear. Before I him my Father knew He called me child; His help has guarded me all through This weary wild.

The least of all my cares Is not to him unknown-- He sees and he prepares The pathway for his own; And what his hand assigns to me, That serves my peace; The greatest burden it might be, Yet joys increase.

I live no more for earth; Nor seek my full joy here; The world seems little worth When heaven is shining clear. Yet joyfully I go my way So free, so blest! Sweetening my toil from day to day With thoughts of rest.

Give me, my Lord, whate'er Will bind my heart to thee; For that I make my prayer, And know thou hearest me! But all that might keep back my soul-- Make thee forgot-- Though of earth-good it were the whole, O give it not!

When sickness, pains, distress, And want doth follow fear, And men their hate express, My sky shall still be clear. Then wait I, Lord, and wait for thee; And I am still, Though mine should unaccomplished be, Do thou thy will!

Thou art the strength and stay Of every weary soul; Thy wisdom rules the way Thy pity does control. What ill can happen unto me When thou art near? Thou wilt, O God, my keeper be; I will not fear.

--Christian F. Gellert (1715-1769).

I SHALL NOT WANT

I shall not want: in desert wilds Thou spreadst thy table for thy child; While grace in streams, for thirsting souls, Through earth and heaven forever rolls.

I shall not want: my darkest night Thy lovely smile shall fill with light; While promises around me bloom, And cheer me with divine perfume.

I shall not want: thy righteousness My soul shall clothe with glorious dress; My blood-washed robe shall be more fair Than garments kings or angels wear.

I shall not want: whate'er is good Of daily bread or angels' food Shall to my Father's child be sure, So long as earth and heaven endure.

--Charles F. Deems.

NO CARES

O Lord! how happy should we be If we could leave our cares to thee; If we from self could rest, And feel at heart that One above, In perfect wisdom, perfect love, Is working for the best.

For when we kneel and cast our care Upon our God, in humble prayer, With strengthened souls we rise; Sure that our Father, who is nigh To hear the ravens when they cry, Will hear his children's cries.

How far from this our daily life; How oft disturbed by anxious strife, By sudden wild alarm! O could we but relinquish all Our earthly props and simply fall On thine Almighty arms!

We cannot trust him as we should, So chafes weak nature's restless mood To cast its peace away; But birds and flowers around us preach All, all, the present evil teach, Sufficient for the day.

O may these anxious hearts of ours The lesson learn from birds and flowers, And learn from self to cease, Leave all things to our Father's will, And, in his mercy trusting, still Find in each trial peace.

--Joseph Anstice.

CARE CAST ON GOD

Lord, I delight in thee, And on thy care depend; To thee in every trouble flee, My best, my only Friend.

When nature's streams are dried Thy fullness is the same; With this will I be satisfied, And glory in thy name.

Who made my heaven secure Will here all good provide; While Christ is rich can I be poor? What can I want beside?

I cast my care on thee; I triumph and adore; Henceforth my great concern shall be To love and please thee more.

--John Ryland.

GOD KNOWS ALL

Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, planned; Each drop that fills my daily cup; thy hand Prescribes for ills none else can understand. All, all is known to thee.

Be trustful, be steadfast, whatever betide thee, Only one thing do thou ask of the Lord-- Grace to go forward wherever he guide thee, Simply believing the truth of his word.

Whatsoe'er our lot may be, Calmly in this thought we'll rest Could we see as thou dost see We should choose it as the best.

--Eliza Cleghorn Gaskell.

O FOR A PERFECT TRUST

O for the peace of a perfect trust, My loving God, in thee; Unwavering faith, that never doubts, Thou choosest best for me.

Best, though my plans be all upset; Best, though the way be rough; Best, though my earthly store be scant; In thee I have enough.

Best, though my health and strength be gone, Though weary days be mine, Shut out from much that others have; Not my will, Lord, but thine!

And even though disappointments come, They, too, are best for me-- To wean me from this changing world And lead me nearer thee.

O for the peace of a perfect trust That looks away from all; That sees thy hand in everything, In great events or small;

That hears thy voice--a Father's voice-- Directing for the best; O for the peace of a perfect trust, A heart with thee at rest!

A SONG OF TRUST

I cannot always see the way that leads To heights above; I sometimes quite forget that he leads on With hands of love; But yet I know the path must lead me to Immanuel's land, And when I reach life's summit I shall know And understand.

I cannot always trace the onward course My ship 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 hammers, blow on blow, The noise of strife, Confuse me till I quite forget he knows And oversees, And that in all details with his good plan My life agrees.

I cannot always know and understand The Master's rule; I cannot always do the tasks he gives In life's hard school; But I am learning, with his help, to solve Them one by one, And, when I cannot understand, to say, "Thy will be done."

--Gertrude Benedict Custis.

ALL IS WELL

The clouds which rise with thunder slake Our thirsty souls with rain; The blow most dreaded falls to break From off our limbs a chain; And wrongs of man to man but make The love of God more plain. As through the shadowy lens of even The eye looks farthest into heaven-- On gleams of star and depths of blue The glaring sunshine never knew.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

CHOOSE FOR US, GOD

Still will we trust, though earth seem dark and dreary, And the heart faint beneath his chastening rod; Though rough and steep our pathway, worn and weary, Still will we trust in God.

Our eyes see dimly till by faith anointed, And our blind choosing brings us grief and pain; Through him alone who hath our way appointed, We find our peace again.

Choose for us, God! nor let our weak preferring Cheat our poor souls of good thou hast designed; Choose for us, God! thy wisdom is unerring, And we are fools and blind.

Let us press on in patient self-denial, Accept the hardship, shrink not from the loss; Our portion lies beyond the hour of trial, Our crown beyond the cross.

--William H. Burleigh.

ALL THINGS WORK GOOD

With strength of righteous purpose in the heart What cause to fear for consequence of deed? God guideth then, not we; nor do we need To care for aught but that we play our part. Most simple trust is often highest art. The issue we would fly may be a seed Ordained by God to bear our souls a meed Of peace that no self-judging could impart. "All things work good for him who trusteth God!" Doth God not love us with a longing love To make us happy, and hath he not sight From end to end of our short earthly road? This, Lord, I hold--aye, know that thou wouldst move The world to lead one trusting soul aright.

--Edward Harding.

RELIGIOUS INFIDELS

How many chatterers of a creed Think doubt the gravest sin, Unmindful of her double birth-- For worry is her twin.

Ah! Christian atheism seems The most insulting kind, For, though the tongue says, God is love, The heart is deaf and blind.

How he who marks the sparrow's fall Must be aggrieved to see These loud lip-champions manifest Such infidelity!

Each fretful line upon their brow, Dug by the plow of care, Is treason to their pledge of faith And satire on their prayer.

O just to hold, without one fear, The strong, warm Hand above, With orthodoxy of the heart-- The childlike creed of love!

None such can be a heretic; Nay, only he forsooth Who lives the falsity of doubt, But prates the cant of truth.

--Frederic Lawrence Knowles.

Worry and Fret were two little men That knocked at my door again and again. "O pray let us in, but to tarry a night, And we will be off with the dawning of light." At last, moved to pity, I opened the door To shelter these travelers, hungry and poor; But when on the morrow I bade them "Adieu," They said, quite unmoved, "We'll tarry with you." And, deaf to entreaty and callous to threat, These troublesome guests abide with me yet.

Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed trust my spirit clings: I know that God is good!

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

MAKE THY WAY MINE

Father, hold thou my hand; The way is steep; I cannot see the path my feet must keep, I cannot tell, so dark the tangled way, Where next to step. O stay; Come close; take both my hands in thine; Make thy way mine!

Lead me. I may not stay; I must move on; but oh, the way! I must be brave and go, Step forward in the dark, nor know If I shall reach the goal at all-- If I shall fall. Take thou my hand. Take it! Thou knowest best How I should go, and all the rest I cannot, cannot see: Lead me: I hold my hands to thee; I own no will but thine; Make thy way mine!

MY PSALM

All as God wills, who wisely heeds To give or to withhold; And knoweth more of all my needs Than all my prayers have told!

Enough that blessings undeserved Have marked my erring track; That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved His chastening turned me back;

That more and more a Providence Of love is understood, Making the springs of time and sense Sweet with eternal good;

That death seems but a covered way Which opens into light, Wherein no blinded child can stray Beyond the Father's sight.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

What most you wish and long for Might only bring you pain; You cannot see the future, God's purpose to explain.

So trust, faint heart, thy Master! He doeth all things well, He loveth more than heart can guess, And more than tongue can tell.

BETTER TRUST

Better trust all and be deceived, And weep that trust and that deceiving, Than doubt one heart that, if believed, Had blest one's life with true believing.

Oh, in this mocking world too fast The doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth; Better be cheated to the last Than lose the blessed hope of truth.

--Frances Anne Kemble.

Be patient; keep thy life-work Well in hand; Be trustful where thou canst not Understand; Thy lot, whate'er it be, is Wisely planned; Whate'er its mysteries, God holds the key; Thou well canst trust him, and bide patiently.

There is never a day so dreary But God can make it bright; And unto the soul that trusts him He giveth songs in the night. There is never a path so hidden But God will show the way, If we seek the Spirit's guidance And patiently watch and pray.

Build a little fence of trust Around to-day; Fill the space with loving deeds, And therein stay. Look not through the sheltering bars Upon to-morrow; God will help thee bear what comes Of joy or sorrow.

--Mary Frances Butts.

On God for all events depend; You cannot want when God's your friend. Weigh well your part and do your best; Leave to your Maker all the rest.

--Cotton.

OUR STRONG STAY

Then, O my soul, be ne'er afraid; On him who thee and all things made With calm reliance rest; Whate'er may come, where'er we go, Our Father in the heavens must know In all things what is best.

--Paul Fleming.

If the wren can cling To a spray a-swing In the mad May wind, and sing and sing As if she'd burst for joy--

Why cannot I Contented lie In his quiet arms, beneath his sky, Unmoved by life's annoy.

--Robert Haven Schauffler.

Be like the bird that, halting in her flight Awhile on boughs too slight, Feels them give way beneath her and yet sings-- Knowing that she hath wings.

--Victor Hugo.

Let not your heart be troubled, Jesus said; Let not your heart be troubled or afraid. My peace into your hands I freely give; Trust in your God, and in his precepts live.

Thunder, lightning, fire and rain, Poverty, sorrow, loss and gain, Death and heaven, and earth and hell, For us must work together well.

With patient course thy path of duty run God nothing does, or suffers to be done, But thou wouldst do the same if thou couldst see The end of all events as well as he.

I welcome all thy sovereign will, For all that will is love; And when I know not what thou dost, I wait the light above.

GOD'S CARE

PROVIDENCE, GOD'S KNOWLEDGE AND BENEFICENCE

CONSIDER THE RAVENS

Lord, according to thy words, I have considered thy birds; And I find their life good, And better, the better understood; Sowing neither corn nor wheat They have all that they can eat; Reaping no more than they sow They have more than they could stow; Having neither barn nor store, Hungry again they eat more.

Considering, I see too that they Have a busy life, but plenty of play; In the earth they dig their bills deep, And work well, though they do not heap; Then to play in the way they are not loth, And their nests between are better than both.

But this is when there blow no storms, When berries are plenty in winter, and worms, When feathers are rife, with oil enough To keep the cold out and send the rain off; If there come, indeed, a long, hard frost, Then it looks as though thy birds were lost.

But I consider further and find A hungry bird has a free mind; He is hungry to-day, but not to-morrow, Steals no comfort, no grief doth borrow; This moment is his, thy will hath said it, The next is nothing till Thou hast made it.

The bird has pain, but has no fear-- Which is the worst of any gear; When cold and hunger and harm betide him, He does not take them and stuff inside him; Content with the day's ill he has got, He waits just, nor haggles with his lot; Neither jumbles God's will With driblets from his own still.

But next I see, in my endeavor, The birds here do not live forever; That cold or hunger, sickness or age, Finishes their earthly stage; The rooks drop in cold nights, Leaving all their wrongs and rights; Birds lie here and birds lie there With their feathers all astare; And in thine own sermon, thou That the sparrow falls dost allow.

It shall not cause me any alarm, For neither so comes the bird to harm, Seeing our Father, thou hast said, Is by the sparrow's dying bed; Therefore it is a blessed place, And a sharer in high grace.

It cometh therefore to this, Lord: I have considered thy word; And henceforth will be thy bird.

--George Macdonald.

GOD KEEPS HIS OWN

I do not know whether my future lies Through calm or storm; Whether the way is strewn with broken ties, Or friendships warm.

This much I know: Whate'er the pathway trod, All else unknown, I shall be guided safely on, for God Will keep his own.

Clouds may obscure the sky, and drenching rain Wear channels deep; And haggard want, with all her bitter train, Make angels weep.

And those I love the best, beneath the sod May sleep alone; But through it all I shall be led, for God Will keep his own.

--Sarah Knowles Bolton.

CARE THOU FOR ME

Care Thou for me! Let me not care! Too weak am I, dear Lord, to bear The heavy burdens of the day; And oft I walk with craven feet Upon life's rough and toilsome way; How sweet to feel, how passing sweet, Thy watchful presence everywhere! Care Thou for me! Let me not care!

Care Thou for me! Why should I care, And looks of gloomy sadness wear, And fret because I cannot see (Thy wisdom doth ordain it so) The path thou hast marked out for me? My Father's plan is best, I know, It will be light, sometime--somewhere-- Care thou for me! Why should I care?

Care Thou for me! Let me not care! This, each new day, shall be my prayer; Thou, who canst read my inmost heart, Dost know I am exceeding frail; Both just and merciful thou art, Whose loving kindness ne'er shall fail; My human nature thou wilt spare; Care Thou for me! I will not care!

THE SPARROW

I am only a little sparrow, A bird of low degree; My life is of little value, But the dear Lord cares for me.

He gave me a coat of feathers; It is very plain, I know, With never a speck of crimson, For it was not made for show,

But it keeps me warm in winter, And it shields me from the rain; Were it bordered with gold or purple Perhaps it would make me vain.

I have no barn or storehouse, I neither sow nor reap; God gives me a sparrow's portion, But never a seed to keep.

If my meal is sometimes scanty, Close picking makes it sweet; I have always enough to feed me, And "life is more than meat."

I know there are many sparrows, All over the world we are found; But our heavenly Father knoweth When one of us falls to the ground.

Though small, we are not forgotten; Though weak we are never afraid; For we know that the dear Lord keepeth The life of the creatures he made.

HE KNOWETH ALL

The twilight falls, the night is near, I fold my work away And kneel to One who bends to hear The story of the day.

The old, old story, yet I kneel To tell it at thy call; And cares grow lighter as I feel That Jesus knows them all.

Yes, all! The morning and the night, The joy, the grief, the loss, The roughened path, the sunbeam bright, The hourly thorn and cross--

Thou knowest all; I lean my head, My weary eyelids close, Content and glad awhile to tread This path, since Jesus knows!

And he has loved me! All my heart With answering love is stirred, And every anguished pain and smart Finds healing in the Word.

So here I lay me down to rest, As nightly shadows fall, And lean, confiding, on his breast, Who knows and pities all!

If to Jesus for relief My soul has fled by prayer, Why should I give way to grief Or heart-consuming care? While I know his providence Disposes each event Shall I judge by feeble sense, And yield to discontent? Sparrows if he kindly feed, And verdure clothe in rich array. Can he see a child in need, And turn his eyes away?

HE NEVER FORGETS

Nay, nay, do not tell me that God will not hear me. I know he is high over all, Yet I know just as well that he always is near me And never forgets me at all.

He shows not his face, for its glory would blind me, Yet I walk on my way unafraid; Though lost in the desert He surely would find me His angels would come to my aid.

He sits on his throne in the wonderful city, And I--I am ashes and dust! Yet I am at rest in His wonderful pity, And I in his promises trust.

He lighteth the stars, and they shine in their places; He maketh his sun like a flame; But better and brighter to Him are the faces Of mortals that call on his name.

Nay, nay! do not tell me that, wrapped in his glory. He hears not my voice when I cry; He made me! He loves me! He knows all my story! I shall look on his face by and by!

THE SURE REFUGE

O I know the Hand that is guiding me Through the shadow to the light; And I know that all betiding me Is meted out aright. I know that the thorny path I tread Is ruled with a golden line; And I know that the darker life's tangled thread The brighter the rich design.

When faints and fails each wilderness hope, And the lamp of faith burns dim, O! I know where to find the honey drop On the bitter chalice brim. For I see, though veiled from my mortal sight, God's plan is all complete; Though the darkness at present be not light, And the bitter be not sweet.

I can wait till the dayspring shall overflow The night of pain and care; For I know there's a blessing for every woe, A promise for every prayer. Yes, I feel that the Hand which is holding me Will ever hold me fast; And the strength of the arms that are folding me Will keep me to the last.

FOLLOWING

As God leads me will I go, Nor choose my way. Let him choose the joy or woe Of every day; They cannot hurt my soul, Because in his control; I leave to him the whole-- His children may.

As God leads me I am still Within his hand; Though his purpose my self-will Doth oft withstand; Yet I wish that none But his will be done Till the end be won That he hath planned.

As God leads I am content; He will take care! All things by his will are sent That I must bear; To him I take my fear, My wishes, while I'm here; The way will all seem clear, When I am there!

As God leads me it is mine To follow him; Soon all shall wonderfully shine Which now seems dim. Fulfilled be his decree! What he shall choose for me That shall my portion be, Up to the brim!

As God leads me so my heart In faith shall rest. No grief nor fear my soul shall part From Jesus' breast. In sweet belief I know What way my life doth go-- Since God permitteth so-- That must be best.

--L. Gedicke.

"YOUR HEAVENLY FATHER KNOWETH"

There are two words of light divine That fall upon this heart of mine, That thrill me in the hour of gain, That still me in the hour of pain: Two words endued with magic power, Sufficient unto any hour-- He knows.

As summer breezes, cool and sweet, Bring rest, relief from toil and heat; As showers, needed as they fall, Renew, refresh and comfort all; So to my feverish heart is given This loving message, fresh from heaven: He knows.

My fainting heart finds strength in this, My hungry heart here seeks its bliss; Here angry billows never surge, Here death can never sing its dirge; My rising fears, with murmuring fraught, Find sudden calm beneath this thought: He knows.

O lullaby for children grown! O nectar sweet for lips that moan! O balm to stricken hearts oppressed! O pillow where worn heads may rest! All joy, all comfort in thee meet, O blessed words, surpassing sweet, He knows.

FEAR NOT

Don't you trouble trouble Till trouble troubles you. Don't you look for trouble; Let trouble look for you.

Don't you borrow sorrow; You'll surely have your share. He who dreams of sorrow Will find that sorrow's there.

Don't you hurry worry By worrying lest it come. To flurry is to worry, 'Twill miss you if you're mum.

If care you've got to carry Wait till 'tis at the door; For he who runs to meet it Takes up the load before.

If minding will not mend it, Then better not to mind; The best thing is to end it-- Just leave it all behind.

Who feareth hath forsaken The Heavenly Father's side; What he hath undertaken He surely will provide.

The very birds reprove thee With all their happy song; The very flowers teach thee That fretting is a wrong.

"Cheer up," the sparrow chirpeth, "Thy Father feedeth me; Think how much more he careth, O lonely child, for thee!"

"Fear not," the flowers whisper; "Since thus he hath arrayed The buttercup and daisy, How canst thou be afraid?"

Then don't you trouble trouble, Till trouble troubles you; You'll only double trouble, And trouble others too.

HE LEADS US ON

He leads us on By paths we did not know; Upward he leads us, though our steps be slow, Though oft we faint and falter on the way, Though storms and darkness oft obscure the day, Yet when the clouds are gone We know he leads us on.

He leads us on. Through all the unquiet years; Past all our dreamland hopes, and doubts, and fears, He guides our steps. Through all the tangled maze Of sin, of sorrow, and o'erclouded days We know his will is done; And still he leads us on.

And he, at last, After the weary strife-- After the restless fever we call life-- After the dreariness, the aching pain, The wayward struggles which have proved in vain, After our toils are past, Will give us rest at last.

THE DEVIL IS A FOOL

Saint Dominic, the glory of the schools, Writing, one day, "The Inquisition's" rules, Stopt, when the evening came, for want of light. The devils, who below from morn till night, Well pleased, had seen his work, exclaimed with sorrow, "Something he will forget before to-morrow!" One zealous imp flew upward from the place, And stood before him, with an angel face. "I come," said he, "sent from God's Realm of Peace, To light you, lest your holy labors cease." Well pleased, the saint wrote on with careful pen. The candle was consumed; the devil then Lighted his thumb; the saint, quite undisturbed, Finished his treatise to the final word. Then he looked up, and started with affright; For lo! the thumb blazed with a lurid light. "Your thumb is burned!" said he. The child of sin Changed to his proper form, and with a grin Said, "I will quench it in the martyrs' blood Your book will cause to flow--a crimson flood!"

Triumphantly the fiend returned to hell And told his story. Satan said, "'Tis well! Your aim was good, but foolish was the deed; For blood of martyrs is the Church's seed."

--Herder, tr. by James Freeman Clarke.

PROVIDENCE

We all acknowledge both thy power and love To be exact, transcendent, and divine; Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move, While all things have their will, yet none but thine,

For either thy command or thy permission Lay hands on all: they are thy right and left: The first puts on with speed and expedition; The other curbs sin's stealing pace and theft.

Nothing escapes them both; all must appear And be disposed and dressed and tuned by thee, Who sweetly temperest all. If we could hear Thy skill and art what music would it be!

Thou art in small things great, nor small in any; Thy even praise can neither rise nor fall. Thou art in all things one, in each thing many; For thou art infinite in one and all.

--George Herbert.

THE MYSTERIOUS WAY

God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines Of never-failing skill, He treasures up his bright designs And works his sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take: The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.

--William Cowper.

DISAPPOINTMENT

Our yet unfinished story Is tending all to this: To God the greatest glory, To us the greatest bliss.

If all things work together For ends so grand and blest, What need to wonder whether Each in itself is best!

If some things were omitted, Or altered as we would, The whole might be unfitted To work for perfect good.

Our plans may be disjointed, But we may calmly rest; What God has once appointed, Is better than our best.

We cannot see before us, But our all-seeing Friend Is always watching o'er us, And knows the very end.

What though we seem to stumble? He will not let us fall; And learning to be humble Is not lost time at all.

What though we fondly reckoned A smoother way to go Than where his hand hath beckoned? It will be better so.

What only seemed a barrier A stepping-stone shall be; Our God is no long tarrier, A present help is he.

And when amid our blindness His disappointments fall, We trust his loving-kindness Whose wisdom sends them all;

The discord that involveth Some startling change of key, The Master's hand revolveth In richest harmony.

Then tremble not, and shrink not, When disappointment nears; Be trustful still, and think not To realize all fears.

While we are meekly kneeling We shall behold her rise, Our Father's love revealing, An angel in disguise.

--Frances Ridley Havergal.

GOD'S CARE

Not a brooklet floweth Onward to the sea, Not a sunbeam gloweth On its bosom free, Not a seed unfoldeth To the glorious air, But our Father holdeth It within his care.

Not a floweret fadeth, Not a star grows dim, Not a cloud o'ershadeth, But 'tis marked by him. Dream not that thy gladness God doth fail to see; Think not in thy sadness He forgetteth thee.

Not a tie is broken, Not a hope laid low, Not a farewell spoken, But our God doth know. Every hair is numbered, Every tear is weighed In the changeless balance Wisest Love has made.

Power eternal resteth In his changeless hand; Love immortal hasteth Swift at his command, Faith can firmly trust him In the darkest hour, For the keys she holdeth To his love and power.

"I WILL ABIDE IN THINE HOUSE"

Among so many can he care? Can special love be everywhere? A myriad homes--a myriad ways-- And God's eye over every place?

Over; but in? The world is full; A grand omnipotence must rule; But is there life that doth abide With mine own, loving, side by side?

So many, and so wide abroad; Can any heart have all of God? From the great spaces vague and dim, May one small household gather him?

I asked; my soul bethought of this: In just that very place of his Where he hath put and keepeth you, God hath no other thing to do.

--Adeline Dutton Train Whitney.

CONSTANT CARE

How gentle God's commands! How kind his precepts are! Come, cast your burdens on the Lord, And trust his constant care.

Beneath his watchful eye His saints securely dwell; That hand which bears all nature up Shall guard his children well.

Why should this anxious load Press down your weary mind? Haste to your heavenly Father's throne And sweet refreshment find.

His goodness stands approved, Unchanged from day to day; I'll drop my burden at his feet, And bear a song away.

--Philip Doddridge.

THOU KNOWEST

Thou knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow Of the sad heart that comes to thee for rest. Cares of to-day and burdens for to-morrow, Blessings implored, and sins to be confest, I come before thee, at thy gracious word, And lay them at thy feet. Thou knowest, Lord!

Thou knowest all the past--how long and blindly On the dark mountains the lost wanderer strayed, How the good Shepherd followed, and how kindly He bore it home upon his shoulders laid, And healed the bleeding wounds, and soothed the pain, And brought back life, and hope, and strength again.

Thou knowest all the present--each temptation, Each toilsome duty, each foreboding fear; All to myself assigned of tribulation, Or to beloved ones than self more dear! All pensive memories, as I journey on, Longings for sunshine and for music gone!

Thou knowest all the future--gleams of gladness By stormy clouds too quickly overcast-- Hours of sweet fellowship and parting sadness, And the dark river to be crossed at last: Oh, what could confidence and hope afford To tread this path, but this--Thou knowest, Lord!

Thou knowest not alone as God--all-knowing-- As man our mortal weakness thou hast proved On earth; with purest sympathies o'erflowing, O Saviour, thou hast wept, and thou hast loved. And love and sorrow still to thee may come And find a hiding-place, a rest, a home.

Therefore I come, thy gentle call obeying, And lay my sins and sorrows at thy feet; On everlasting strength my weakness staying, Clothed in thy robe of righteousness complete. Then rising, and refreshed, I leave thy throne, And follow on to know as I am known!

A GREAT DIFFERENCE

Men lose their ships, the eager things To try their luck at sea, But none can tell, by note or count, How many there may be.

One turneth east, another south-- They never come again, And then we know they must have sunk, But neither how nor when.

God sends his happy birds abroad-- "They're less than ships," say we; No moment passes but he knows How many there should be.

One buildeth high, another low, With just a bird's light care-- If only one, perchance, doth fall, God knoweth when and where.

HE CARETH FOR YOU

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 lesser pains of daily life, The noise, the weariness, the strife, What peace it would afford!

I wonder if he really shares In all my little human cares, This mighty King of kings. If he who guides each blazing star Through realms of boundless space afar Without confusion, sound or jar, Stoops to 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 loving thought of Deity, And sense of Christ's sweet sympathy, No loss, but richest gain.

Dear Lord, my heart hath not a doubt That thou dost compass me about With sympathy divine. The love for me once crucified Is not a love to leave my side, But waiteth ever to divide Each smallest care of mine.

MOMENT BY MOMENT

Never a trial that He is not there; Never a burden that He doth not bear; Never a sorrow that He doth not share. Moment by moment I'm under his care.

Never a heartache, and never a groan, Never a tear-drop, and never a moan, Never a danger but there, on the throne, Moment by moment, He thinks of his own.

Never a weakness that He doth not feel; Never a sickness that He cannot heal. Moment by moment, in woe or in weal, Jesus, my Saviour, abides with me still.

--Daniel W. Whittle.

There's a divinity that shapes our ends Rough-hew them how we will.

--William Shakespeare.

EVENING HYMN

It is the evening hour, And thankfully, Father, thy weary child Has come to thee.

I lean my aching head Upon thy breast, And there, and only there, I am at rest.

Thou knowest all my life, Each petty sin, Nothing is hid from thee Without, within.

All that I have or am Is wholly thine, So is my soul at peace, For thou art mine.

To-morrow's dawn may find Me here, or there; It matters little, since thy love Is everywhere!

THE BELIEVER'S HERITAGE

No care can come where God doth guard; No ill befall whom he doth keep; In safety hid, of trouble rid, I lay me down in peace and sleep.

I wholly love thy holy name; I hail with glee thy glorious will; Where'er I go, 'tis joy to know That thou, my King, art near me still.

Thy power immense, consummate, grand, Thy wisdom, known to thee alone, Thy perfect love, all thought above, Make me a sharer in thy throne.

With thee abiding none can fear, Nor lack, of every good possessed; Thy grace avails, whate'er assails, And I in thee am fully blest.

Then leap, my heart, exultant, strong, Cast every doubt and weight away; Give thanks and praise to God always, For he will guide to perfect day!

--James Mudge.

"HE CARETH FOR THEE"

What can it mean? Is it aught to him That the nights are long and the days are dim? Can he be touched by 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, And life's song changes to sobbing prayers-- Then my heart cries out for God who cares.

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 Saviour--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 awakes the song; The sorrow that bowed me down he bears, And loves and pardons because he cares.

Let all who are sad take heart again; We are not alone in 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 it be trouble which he doth share? O rest in peace, for the Lord does care.

CAST THY BURDEN ON THE LORD

Thou who art touched with feeling of our woes, Let me on thee my heavy burden cast! My aching, anguished heart on thee repose. Leaving with thee the sad mysterious past; Let me submissive bow and kiss the rod; Let me "be still, and know that thou art God."

Why should my harassed agitated mind Go round and round this terrible event? Striving in vain some brighter side to find, Some cause why all this anguish has been sent? Do I indeed that sacred truth believe-- Thou dost not willingly afflict and grieve?

My lovely gourd is withered in an hour! I droop, I faint beneath the scorching sun; My Shepherd, lead me to some sheltering bower; There where thy little flock "lie down at noon"; Though of my dearest earthly joy bereft Thou art my portion still; thou, thou, my God, art left.

--Charlotte Elliott.

Says God: "Who comes towards me an inch through doubtings dim, In blazing light I do approach a yard towards him."

--Oriental, tr. by William Rounseville Alger.

The light of love is round His feet, His paths are never dim; And He comes nigh to us, when we Dare not come nigh to Him.

--Frederick William Faber.

Not in our waking hours alone His constancy and care are known, But locked in slumber fast and deep He giveth to us while we sleep.

--Frederick Lucian Hosmer.

HIS CARE

God holds the key of all unknown, And I am glad. If other hands should hold the key, Or if he trusted it to me, I might be sad.

What if to-morrow's cares were here Without its rest? I'd rather he unlock the day, And as the hours swing open say, "Thy will be best."

The very dimness of my sight Makes me secure; For groping in my misty way, I feel his hand; I hear him say, "My help is sure."

I cannot read his future plan, But this I know: I have the smiling of his face, And all the refuge of his grace, While here below.

Enough; this covers all my want, And so I rest; For what I cannot he can see, And in his care I sure shall be Forever blest.

--John Parker.

Forever, from the hand that takes One blessing from us, others fall; And soon or late our Father makes His perfect recompense to all.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

Nothing pays but God, Served--in work obscure done honestly, Or vote for truth unpopular, or faith maintained To ruinous convictions.

--James Russell Lowell.

He did God's will, to him all one, If on the earth or in the sun.

--Robert Browning.

I am Part of that Power, not understood, Which always wills the bad And always works the good. (Mephistopheles, in Faust.)

--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

I have no answer, for myself or thee, Save that I learned beside my mother's knee: "All is of God that is, and is to be; And God is good." Let this suffice us still, Resting in childlike trust upon his will Who moves to his great ends unthwarted by the ill.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

He knows, he loves, he cares, Nothing his truth can dim; He gives his very best to those Who leave the choice to him.

No help! nay, it is not so! Though human help be far, thy God is nigh. Who feeds the ravens hears his children's cry; He's near thee wheresoe'er thy footsteps roam, And he will guide thee, light thee, help thee home.

God sees me though I see him not; I know I shall not be forgot; For though I be the smallest dot, It is his mercy shapes my lot.

--From the Scandinavian, tr. by Frederic Rowland Marvin.

Teach me to answer still, Whate'er my lot may be, To all thou sendest me, of good or ill, "All goeth as God will."

Dance, O my soul! 'tis God doth play; His will makes music all the day; That song which rings the world around This heart of mine shall ever sound.

--James Mudge.

Let one more attest: I have seen God's hand through a life time, And all was for best.

--Robert Browning.

GOD'S WILL

OBEDIENCE, DIVINE UNION

THE WILL OF GOD

I worship thee, sweet will of God! And all thy ways adore. And every day I live I seem To love thee more and more.

Thou wert the end, the blessed rule Of our Saviour's toils and tears; Thou wert the passion of his heart Those three and thirty years.

And he hath breathed into my soul A special love of thee, A love to lose my will in his, And by that loss be free.

I love to kiss each print where thou Hast set thine unseen feet; I cannot fear thee, blessed will! Thine empire is so sweet.

When obstacles and trials seem Like prison walls to be, I do the little I can do, And leave the rest to thee.

I know not what it is to doubt; My heart is ever gay; I run no risk, for come what will Thou always hast thy way.

I have no cares, O blessed will! For all my cares are thine; I live in triumph, Lord, for thou Hast made thy triumphs mine.

And when it seems no chance or change From grief can set me free, Hope finds its strength in helplessness, And gayly waits on thee.

Man's weakness waiting upon God Its end can never miss, For man on earth no work can do More angel-like than this.

Ride on, ride on triumphantly, Thou glorious Will! ride on; Faith's pilgrim sons behind thee take The road that thou hast gone.

He always wins who sides with God, To him no chance is lost; God's will is sweetest to him when It triumphs at his cost.

Ill that he blesses is our good, And unblest good is ill; And all is right that seems most wrong If it be his sweet will!

--Frederick William Faber.

THE WILL DIVINE

Thy will, O God, is joy to me, A gladsome thing; For in it naught but love I see, Whate'er it bring.

No bed of pain, no rack of woe-- Thy will is good; A glory wheresoe'er I go, My daily food.

Within the circle of thy will All things abide; So I, exulting, find no ill Where thou dost guide.

In that resplendent will of thine I calmly rest; Triumphantly I make it mine, And count it best.

To doubt and gloom and care and fear I yield no jot; Thy choice I choose, with soul sincere, Thrice happy lot!

In all the small events that fall From day to day I mark thy hand, I hear thy call, And swift obey.

I walk by faith, not sense or sight; Calm faith in thee; My peace endures, my way is bright, My heart is free.

Unfaltering trust, complete content, The days ensphere, Each meal becomes a sacrament, And heaven is here.

--James Mudge.

THE TREE GOD PLANTS

The wind that blows can never kill The tree God plants; It bloweth east, it bloweth west, The tender leaves have little rest, But any wind that blows is best; The tree God plants Strikes deeper root, grows higher still, Spreads wider boughs, for God's good will Meets all its wants.

There is no frost hath power to blight The tree God shields; The roots are warm beneath soft snows, And when Spring comes it surely knows, And every bud to blossom grows. The tree God shields Grows on apace by day and night, Till sweet to taste and fair to sight Its fruit it yields.

There is no storm hath power to blast The tree God knows; No thunderbolt, nor beating rain, Nor lightning flash, nor hurricane-- When they are spent it doth remain. The tree God knows Through every tempest standeth fast, And from its first day to its last Still fairer grows.

If in the soul's still garden-place A seed God sows-- A little seed--it soon will grow, And far and near all men will know For heavenly lands he bids it blow. A seed God sows, And up it springs by day and night; Through life, through death, it groweth right; Forever grows.

--Lillian E. Barr.

GOD'S WILL

Take thine own way with me, dear Lord, Thou canst not otherwise than bless. I launch me forth upon a sea Of boundless love and tenderness.

I could not choose a larger bliss Than to be wholly thine; and mine A will whose highest joy is this, To ceaselessly unclasp in thine.

I will not fear thee, O my God! The days to come can only bring Their perfect sequences of love, Thy larger, deeper comforting.

Within the shadow of this love, Loss doth transmute itself to gain; Faith veils earth's sorrow in its light, And straightway lives above her pain.

We are not losers thus; we share The perfect gladness of the Son, Not conquered--for, behold, we reign; Conquered and Conqueror are one.

Thy wonderful, grand will, my God, Triumphantly I make it mine; And faith shall breathe her glad "Amen" To every dear command of thine.

Beneath the splendor of thy choice, Thy perfect choice for me, I rest; Outside it now I dare not live, Within it I must needs be blest.

Meanwhile my spirit anchors calm In grander regions still than this; The fair, far-shining latitudes Of that yet unexplored bliss.

Then may thy perfect glorious will Be evermore fulfilled in me, And make my life an answering chord Of glad, responsive harmony.

Oh! it is life indeed to live Within this kingdom strangely sweet; And yet we fear to enter in, And linger with unwilling feet.

We fear this wondrous will of thine Because we have not reached thy heart. Not venturing our all on thee We may not know how good thou art.

--Jean Sophia Pigott.

Deep at the heart of all our pain, In loss as surely as in gain, His love abideth still. Let come what will my heart shall stand On this firm rock at his right hand, "Father, it is thy will."

--John White Chadwick.

THE CARPENTER

O Lord! at Joseph's humble bench Thy hands did handle saw and plane, Thy hammer nails did drive and clench, Avoiding knot, and humoring grain.

That thou didst seem thou wast indeed, In sport thy tools thou didst not use, Nor, helping hind's or fisher's need, The laborer's hire too nice refuse.

Lord! might I be but as a saw, A plane, a chisel in thy hand! No, Lord! I take it back in awe, Such prayer for me is far too grand.

I pray, O Master! let me lie, As on thy bench the favored wood; Thy saw, thy plane, thy chisel ply, And work me into something good.

No! no! Ambition holy, high, Urges for more than both to pray; Come in, O gracious force, I cry, O Workman! share my shed of clay.

Then I at bench, or desk, or oar, With last, or needle, net, or pen, As thou in Nazareth of yore, Shall do the Father's will again.

--George Macdonald.

THE DIVINE MAJESTY

The Lord our God is clothed with might, The winds obey his will; He speaks, and in his heavenly height The rolling sun stands still.

Rebel, ye waves, and o'er the land With threatening aspect roar; The Lord uplifts his awful hand, And chains you to the shore.

Ye winds of night, your force combine; Without his high behest, Ye shall not, in the mountain pine, Disturb the sparrow's nest.

His voice sublime is heard afar; In distant peals it dies; He yokes the whirlwind to his car And sweeps the howling skies.

Ye sons of earth, in reverence bend; Ye nations, wait his nod; And bid the choral song ascend To celebrate our God.

--H. Kirke White.

THOU SWEET, BELOVED WILL OF GOD

Thou sweet, beloved will of God, My anchor ground, my fortress hill, My spirit's silent, fair abode, In thee I hide me and am still.

O Will, that willest good alone, Lead thou the way, thou guidest best; A little child, I follow on, And, trusting, lean upon thy breast.

Thy beautiful sweet will, my God, Holds fast in its sublime embrace My captive will, a gladsome bird, Prisoned in such a realm of grace.

Within this place of certain good Love evermore expands her wings, Or, nestling in thy perfect choice, Abides content with what it brings.

Oh lightest burden, sweetest yoke! It lifts, it bears my happy soul, It giveth wings to this poor heart; My freedom is thy grand control.

Upon God's will I lay me down, As child upon its mother's breast; No silken couch, nor softest bed, Could ever give me such deep rest.

Thy wonderful grand will, my God, With triumph now I make it mine; And faith shall cry a joyous Yes! To every dear command of thine.

AS IT WAS TO BE

The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare! The spray of the tempest is white in air; The winds are out with the waves at play, And I shall not tempt the sea to-day.

The trail is narrow, the wood is dim, The panther clings to the arching limb; And the lion's whelps are abroad at play, And I shall not join in the chase to-day.

But the ship sailed safely over the sea, And the hunters came from the chase in glee; And the town that was builded upon a rock Was swallowed up in the earthquake's shock.

--Francis Bret Harte.

USEFUL ACCORDING TO GOD'S WILL

Let me not die before I've done for thee My earthly work, whatever it may be; Call me not hence with mission unfulfilled; Let me not leave my space of ground untilled; Impress this truth upon me, that not one Can do my portion that I leave undone.

Then give me strength all faithfully to toil, Converting barren earth to fruitful soil. I long to be an instrument of thine For gathering worshipers into thy shrine: To be the means one human soul to save From the dark terrors of a hopeless grave.

Yet most I want a spirit of content To work where'er thou'lt wish my labor spent, Whether at home or in a stranger's clime, In days of joy or sorrow's sterner time; I want a spirit passive to be still, And by thy power to do thy holy will.

And when the prayer unto my lips doth rise, "Before a new home doth my soul surprise, Let me accomplish some great work for thee," Subdue it, Lord; let my petition be, "O make me useful in this world of thine, In ways according to thy will, not mine."

AS THOU WILT

My Jesus, as thou wilt: O may thy will be mine; Into thy hand of love I would my all resign. Through sorrow or through joy Conduct me as thine own, And help me still to say, "My Lord, thy will be done."

My Jesus, as thou wilt: If needy here, and poor, Give me thy people's bread, Their portion rich and sure. The manna of thy word Let my soul feed upon; And if all else should fail-- My Lord, thy will be done.

My Jesus, as thou wilt: If among thorns I go, Still sometimes here and there Let a few roses blow. But thou on earth along The thorny path hast gone; Then lead me after thee. My Lord, thy will be done!

My Jesus, as thou wilt: Though seen through many a tear, Let not my star of hope Grow dim or disappear. Since thou on earth hast wept And sorrowed oft alone, If I must weep with thee, My Lord, thy will be done.

My Jesus, as thou wilt: If loved ones must depart Suffer not sorrow's flood To overwhelm my heart. For they are blest with thee, Their race and conflict won; Let me but follow them. My Lord, thy will be done!

My Jesus, as thou wilt: When death itself draws nigh, To thy dear wounded side I would for refuge fly. Leaning on thee, to go Where thou before hast gone; The rest as thou shalt please. My Lord, thy will be done!

My Jesus, as thou wilt: All shall be well for me; Each changing future scene I gladly trust with thee. Straight to my home above, I travel calmly on, And sing in life or death, "My Lord, thy will be done."

--Benjamin Schmolke, tr. by J. Borthwick.

GREAT AND SMALL

There is no great nor small in Nature's plan, Bulk is but fancy in the mind of man; A raindrop is as wondrous as a star, Near is not nearest, farthest is not far; And suns and planets in the vast serene Are lost as midges in the summer sheen, Born in their season; and we live and die Creatures of Time, lost in Eternity.

--Charles Mackay.

GOD'S WILL BE DONE

My God, my Father, while I stray Far from my home, on life's rough way, O teach me from my heart to say, "Thy will be done!"

Though dark my path, and sad my lot, Let me "be still," and murmur not; O breathe the prayer divinely taught, "Thy will be done!"

What though in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved, no longer nigh, Submissive still would I reply "Thy will be done!"

Though thou hast called me to resign What most I prized, it ne'er was mine; I have but yielded what was thine; "Thy will be done!"

Should grief or sickness waste away My life in premature decay; My Father! still I strive to say, "Thy will be done!"

Let but my fainting heart be blest With thy sweet Spirit for its guest; My God! to thee I leave the rest: "Thy will be done!"

Renew my will from day to day! Blend it with thine; and take away All that now makes it hard to say, "Thy will be done!"

Then, when on earth I breathe no more The prayer oft mixed with tears before, I'll sing upon a happier shore: "Thy will be done!"

--Charlotte Elliott.

THE TWO ANGELS

All is of God! If he but wave his hand, The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, Lo! he looks back from the departing cloud.

Angels of Life and Death alike are his; Without his leave they pass no threshold o'er; Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, Against his messengers to shut the door?

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

AMEN!

I cannot say, Beneath the pressure of life's cares to-day, I joy in these; But I can say That I had rather walk this rugged way, If Him it please.

I cannot feel That all is well when darkening clouds conceal The shining sun; But then I know God lives and loves, and say, since it is so, Thy will be done.

I cannot speak In happy tones; the tear-drops on my cheek Show I am sad: But I can speak Of grace to suffer with submission meek Until made glad.

I do not see Why God should e'en permit some things to be, When He is love; But I can see, Though often dimly, through the mystery His hand above!

I do not know Where falls the seed that I have tried to sow With greatest care; But I shall know The meaning of each waiting hour below Sometime, somewhere!

I do not look Upon the present, nor in Nature's book, To read my fate; But I do look For promised blessings in God's holy Book; And I can wait.

I may not try To keep the hot tears back--but hush that sigh, "It might have been"; And try to still Each rising murmur, and to God's sweet will Respond "Amen!"

--Miss Ophelia G. Browning.

AS HE WILLS

He sendeth sun, he sendeth shower, Alike they're needful for the flower; And joys and tears alike are sent To give the soul fit nourishment. As comes to me or cloud or sun, Father! thy will, not mine, be done.

Can loving children e'er reprove, With murmurs, whom they trust and love? Creator! I would ever be A trusting, loving child to thee: As comes to me or cloud or sun, Father! thy will, not mine, be done.

O ne'er will I at life repine-- Enough that thou hast made it mine; When falls the shadow cold of death I yet will sing with parting breath, As comes to me or cloud or sun, Father! thy will, not mine, be done.

--Sarah Flower Adams.

ACCORDING TO THY WILL

If I were told that I must die to-morrow, That the next sun Which sinks should bear me past all fear and sorrow For any one, All the fight fought, all the short journey through, What should I do?

I do not think that I should shrink or falter, But just go on Doing my work, nor change nor seek to alter Aught that is gone; But rise, and move, and love, and smile, and pray For one more day.

And lying down at night, for a last sleeping, Say in that ear Which harkens ever, "Lord, within thy keeping, How should I fear? And when to-morrow brings thee nearer still, Do thou thy will."

I might not sleep for awe; but peaceful, tender, My soul would lie All night long; and when the morning splendor Flashed o'er the sky, I think that I could smile--could calmly say, "It is his day."

But if a wondrous hand from the blue yonder Held out a scroll On which my life was writ, and I with wonder Beheld unroll To a long century's end its mystic clew-- What should I do?

What could I do, O blessed Guide and Master! Other than this, Still to go on as now, not slower, faster, Nor fear to miss The road, although so very long it be, While led by thee?

Step by step, feeling thee close beside me, Although unseen; Through thorns, through flowers, whether the tempest hide thee Or heavens serene, Assured thy faithfulness cannot betray, Thy love decay.

I may not know, my God; no hand revealeth Thy counsels wise; Along the path no deepening shadow stealeth; No voice replies To all my questioning thought the time to tell, And it is well.

Let me keep on, abiding and unfearing Thy will always; Through a long century's ripe fruition Or a short day's; Thou canst not come too soon; and I can wait If thou come late!

--Susan Coolidge.

God's in his heaven, All's right with the world.

--Robert Browning.

WHAT PLEASETH GOD

What pleaseth God with joy receive; Though storm-winds rage and billows heave And earth's foundations all be rent, Be comforted; to thee is sent What pleaseth God.

God's will is best; to this resigned, How sweetly rests the weary mind! Seek, then, this blessed conformity, Desiring but to do and be What pleaseth God.

God's thoughts are wisest; human schemes Are vain delusions, idle dreams; Our purposes are frail and weak; With earthly mind we seldom seek What pleaseth God.

God is the holiest; and his ways Are full of kindness, truth, and grace; His blessing crowns our earnest prayer, While worldlings scorn, and little care What pleaseth God.

God's is the truest heart; his love Nor time, nor life, nor death, can move; To those his mercies daily flow, Whose chief concern it is to know What pleaseth God.

Omnipotent he reigns on high And watcheth o'er thy destiny; While sea, and earth, and air produce For daily pleasure, daily use, What pleaseth God.

He loves his sheep, and when they stray He leads them back to wisdom's way; Their faithless, wandering hearts to turn, Gently chastising, till they learn What pleaseth God.

He knows our every need, and grants A rich supply to all our wants; No good withholds from those whose mind Is bent with earnest zeal to find What pleaseth God.

Then let the world, with stubborn will, Its earthborn pleasures follow still; Be this, my soul, thy constant aim, Thy riches, honor, glory, fame, What pleaseth God.

Should care and grief thy portion be, To thy strong refuge ever flee; For all his creatures but perform, In peace and tumult, calm and storm, What pleaseth God.

Faith lays her hand on God's rich grace, And hope gives patience for the race; These virtues in thy heart enshrined, Thy portion thou wilt surely find, What pleaseth God.

In heaven thy glorious portion is; There is thy throne, thy crown, thy bliss; There shalt thou taste, and hear, and see, There shalt thou ever do and be, What pleaseth God.

--Paul Gerhardt.

"THE SPLENDOR OF GOD'S WILL"

O words of golden music Caught from the harps on high, Which find a glorious anthem Where we have found a sigh, And peal their grandest praises Just where ours faint and die.

O words of holy radiance Shining on every tear Till it becomes a rainbow, Reflecting, bright and clear, Our Father's love and glory So wonderful, so dear!

O words of sparkling power, Of insight full and deep! Shall they not enter other hearts In a grand and gladsome sweep, And lift the lives to songs of joy That only droop and weep?

And O, it is a splendor, A glow of majesty, A mystery of beauty, If we will only see; A very cloud of glory Enfolding you and me.

A splendor that is lighted At one transcendent flame, The wondrous love, the perfect love, Our Father's sweetest name; For his very name and essence And his will are all the same.

--Frances Ridley Havergal.

NOT BY CHANCE

No chance has brought this ill to me; 'Tis God's sweet will, so let it be; He seeth what I cannot see.

There is a need-be for each pain, And he will make it one day plain That earthly loss is heavenly gain.

Like as a piece of tapestry, Viewed from the back, appears to be Naught but threads tangled hopelessly,

But in the front a picture fair Rewards the worker for his care, Proving his skill and patience rare.

Thou art the workman, I the frame; Lord, for the glory of thy name, Perfect thine image on the same!

SUBMISSION TO GOD

Whate'er God wills let that be done; His will is ever wisest; His grace will all thy hope outrun Who to that faith arisest. The gracious Lord Will help afford; He chastens with forbearing; Who God believes, And to him cleaves, Shall not be left despairing.

My God is my sure confidence, My light, and my existence; His counsel is beyond my sense, But stirs no weak resistance; His word declares The very hairs Upon my head are numbered; His mercy large Holds me in charge With care that never slumbered.

There comes a day when at his will The pulse of nature ceases. I think upon it, and am still, Let come whate'er he pleases. To him I trust My soul, my dust, When flesh and spirit sever; The Christ we sing Has plucked the sting Away from death forever.

--Albert of Brandenburg, 1586.

THY WILL BE DONE

We see not, know not; all our way Is night; with thee alone is day. From out the torrent's troubled drift, Above the storm our prayers we lift: Thy will be done!

The flesh may fail, the heart may faint. But who are we to make complaint Or dare to plead, in times like these, The weakness of our love of ease? Thy will be done!

We take, with solemn thankfulness, Our burden up, nor ask it less, And count it joy that even we May suffer, serve, or wait for thee, Whose will be done!

Though dim as yet in tint and line, We trace thy picture's wise design, And thank thee that our age supplies Its dark relief of sacrifice. Thy will be done!

And if, in our unworthiness, Thy sacrificial wine we press; If from thy ordeal's heated bars Our feet are seamed with crimson scars, Thy will be done!

If, for the age to come, this hour Of trial hath vicarious power, And, blest by thee, our present pain Be liberty's eternal gain, Thy will be done.

Strike, thou the Master, we thy keys, The anthem of the destinies! The minor of thy loftier strain, Our hearts shall breathe the old refrain, Thy will be done!

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

There is no sense, as I can see, In mortals such as you and me A-faulting nature's wise intents And locking horns with Providence.

It is no use to grumble and complain; It's just as cheap and easy to rejoice; When God sorts out the weather and sends rain-- Why, rain's my choice.

--James Whitcomb Riley.

THY WILL

Not in dumb resignation We lift our hands on high; Not like the nerveless fatalist, Content to do and die. Our faith springs like the eagle Who soars to meet the sun, And cries, exulting, unto thee, "O Lord, thy will be done!"

Thy will! It bids the weak be strong; It bids the strong be just; No lip to fawn, no hand to beg, No brow to seek the dust. Wherever man oppresses man, Beneath the liberal sun, O Lord, be there! Thine arm make bare! Thy righteous will be done!

--John Hay.

AS GOD WILL

All goeth but God's will! The fairest garden flower Fades after its brief hour Of brightness. Still, This is but God's good will.

All goeth but God's will! The brightest, dearest day Doth swiftly pass away, And darkest night Succeeds the vision bright.

But still strong-hearted be, Yea, though the night be drear; How sad and long soe'er Its gloom may be, This darkness, too, shall flee.

Weep not yon grave beside! Dear friend, he is not gone; God's angel soon this stone Shall roll aside. Yea, death shall not abide!

Earth's anguish, too, shall go, O then be strong, my soul! When sorrows o'er thee roll Be still, and know 'Tis God's will worketh so.

Dear Lord and God, incline Thine ear unto my call! O grant me that in all, This will of mine May still be one with thine!

Teach me to answer still, Whate'er my lot may be, To all thou sendest me, Of good or ill; "All goeth as God will."

--Alice Williams.

THE SHADOW OF THE GREAT ROCK

Sweet is the solace of thy love, My heavenly Friend, to me, While through the hidden way of faith I journey home with thee, Learning by quiet thankfulness As a dear child to be.

Though from the shadow of thy peace My feet would often stray, Thy mercy follows all my steps, And will not turn away; Yea, thou wilt comfort me at last As none beneath thee may.

No other comforter I need If thou, O Lord, be mine; Thy rod will bring my spirit low, Thy fire my heart refine, And cause me pain that none may feel By other love than thine.

Then in the secret of my soul, Though hosts my peace invade, Though through a waste and weary land My lonely way be made, Thou, even thou, wilt comfort me; I need not be afraid.

O there is nothing in the world To weigh against thy will; Even the dark times I dread the most Thy covenant fulfill; And when the pleasant morning dawns I find thee with me still.

Still in the solitary place I would awhile abide. Till with the solace of thy love My soul is satisfied, And all my hopes of happiness Stay calmly at thy side.

On thy compassion I repose In weakness and distress; I will not ask for greater ease Lest I should love thee less, It is a blessed thing for me To need thy tenderness.

--Anna Letitia Waring.

RABIA

There was of old a Moslem saint Named Rabia. On her bed she lay Pale, sick, but uttered no complaint. "Send for the holy men to pray." And two were sent. The first drew near: "The prayers of no man are sincere Who does not bow beneath the rod, And bear the chastening strokes of God." Whereto the second, more severe: "The prayers of no man are sincere Who does not in the rod rejoice And make the strokes he bears his choice." Then she, who felt that in such pain The love of self did still remain, Answered, "No prayers can be sincere When they from whose wrung hearts they fall Are not as I am, lying here, Who long since have forgotten all. Dear Lord of love! There is no pain." So Rabia, and was well again.

--Edmund Clarence Stedman.

THREE STAGES OF PIETY

Rabia, sick upon her bed, By two saints was visited:

Holy Malik, Hassan wise, Men of mark in Moslem eyes.

Hassan said: "Whose prayer is pure Will God's chastisement endure."

Malik, from a deeper sense, Uttered his experience:

"He who loves his Master's choice Will in chastisement rejoice."

Rabia saw some selfish will In their maxims lingering still,

And replied: "O men of grace! He who sees his Master's face

"Will not in his prayer recall That he is chastised at all."

--Arabian, tr. by James Freeman Clarke, from the German of Tholuck.

(Rabia was a very holy Arabian woman who lived in the second century of the Hegira, or the eighth century of our era.)

PRAYER'S GRACE

Round holy Rabia's suffering bed The wise men gathered, gazing gravely. "Daughter of God!" the youngest said, "Endure thy Father's chastening bravely; They who have steeped their souls in prayer Can any anguish calmly bear."

She answered not, and turned aside, Though not reproachfully nor sadly. "Daughter of God!" the eldest cried, "Sustain thy Father's chastening gladly; They who have learned to pray aright From pain's dark well draw up delight."

Then spake she out: "Your words are fair; But, oh, the truth lies deeper still. I know not, when absorbed in prayer, Pleasure or pain, or good or ill. They who God's face can understand Feel not the workings of his hand."

--Monckton Milnes.

I LOVE THY WILL

I love thy will, O God! Thy blessed, perfect will, In which this once rebellious heart Lies satisfied and still.

I love thy will, O God! It is my joy, my rest; It glorifies my common task, It makes each trial blest.

I love thy will, O God! The sunshine or the rain; Some days are bright with praise, and some Sweet with accepted pain.

I love thy will, O God! O hear my earnest plea, That as thy will is done in heaven It may be done in me!

--Bessie Pegg MacLaughlin.

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.

--Tr. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

DAILY BREAD

I pray, with meek hands on my breast, "Thy will be done, thy kingdom come," But shouldst thou call my dear ones home Should I still say, "'Tis best; Thy will be done"?

I cannot tell. I probe my heart With sharpest instruments of pain, And listen if the sweet refrain Still wells up through the smart-- "Thy will be done!"

I cannot tell. I yield the quest, Content if only day by day My God shall give me grace to say, "Father, thou knowest best; Thy will be done!"

He gives no strength for coming ill, Until its advent. Then he rolls His love in on his waiting souls, Sure of their sweet "Thy will, Thy will be done!"

"Give us this day our daily bread"-- So prayed the Christ, and so will I; Father, my daily bread supply, Or, if I go unfed, "Thy will be done!"

--Caroline Atherton Mason.

APPROACHES

When thou turnest away from ill Christ is this side of thy hill.

When thou turnest towards good Christ is walking in thy wood.

When thy heart says, "Father, pardon!" Then the Lord is in thy garden.

When stern duty wakes to watch Then his hand is on the latch.

But when hope thy song doth rouse Then the Lord is in the house.

When to love is all thy wit Christ doth at thy table sit.

When God's will is thy heart's pole Then is Christ thy very soul.

--George Macdonald.

SUBMISSION

But that thou art my wisdom, Lord, And both mine eyes are thine. My mind would be extremely stirred For missing my design.

Were it not better to bestow Some place and power on me? Then should thy praises with me grow, And share in my degree.

But when I thus dispute and grieve I do resume my sight; And, pilfering what I once did give, Disseize thee of thy right.

How know I, if thou shouldst me raise. That I should then raise thee? Perhaps great places and thy praise Do not so well agree.

Wherefore unto my gift I stand; I will no more advise; Only do thou lend me a hand, Since thou hast both mine eyes.

--George Herbert.

YOUTH'S WARNING

Beware, exulting youth, beware, When life's young pleasures woo, That ere you yield yon shrine your heart, And keep your conscience true! For sake of silver spent to-day Why pledge to-morrow's gold? Or in hot blood implant remorse, To grow when blood is cold? If wrong you do, if false you play, In summer among the flowers, You must atone, you must repay, In winter among the showers.

To turn the balances of heaven Surpasses mortal power; For every white there is a black, For every sweet a sour. For every up there is a down, For every folly shame, And retribution follows guilt As burning follows flame. If wrong you do, if false you play, In summer among the flowers, You must atone, you must repay In winter among the showers.

--George Macdonald.

THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS

I love thy skies, thy sunny mists, Thy fields, thy mountains hoar, Thy wind that bloweth where it lists; Thy will, I love it more.

I love thy hidden truth to seek All round, in sea, on shore; The arts whereby like gods we speak; Thy will to me is more.

I love thy men and women, Lord, The children round thy door, Calm thoughts that inward strength afford; Thy will, O Lord, is more.

But when thy will my life shall hold, Thine to the very core, The world which that same will did mold I shall love ten times more.

--George Macdonald.

No child of man may perish ere his time arrives; A thousand arrows pierce him and he still survives; But when the moment fixed in heaven's eternal will Comes round, a single blade of yielding grass may kill.

--From the Mahabharata, tr. by Frederic Rowland Marvin.

God gives to man the power to strike or miss you; It is not thy foe who did the thing. The arrow from the bow may seem to issue, But we know an archer drew the string.

--Saadi, tr. by James Freeman Clarke.

On two days it steads not to run from thy grave: The appointed and the unappointed day; On the first neither balm nor physician can save, Nor thee on the second the universe slay.

--Ralph Waldo Emerson.

ROUNDEL

I do not know thy final will, It is too good for me to know. Thou willest that I mercy show, That I take heed and do no ill, That I the needy warm and fill, Nor stones at any sinner throw; But I know not thy final will, It is too good for me to know.

I know thy love unspeakable-- For love's sake able to send woe! To find thine own thou lost didst go, And wouldst for men thy blood yet spill! How should I know thy final will, Godwise too good for me to know!

--George Macdonald.

One prayer I have--all prayers in one-- When I am wholly thine: Thy will, my God, thy will be done, And let that will be mine; All-wise, almighty, and all-good, In thee I firmly trust, Thy ways, unknown or understood, Are merciful and just.

Fear him, ye saints, and you will then Have nothing else to fear; Make you his service your delight, He'll make your wants his care.

The best will is our Father's will, And we may rest there calm and still; O make it hour by hour thine own, And wish for naught but that alone Which pleases God.

--Paul Gerhardt.

It is Lucifer, The son of mystery; And since God suffers him to be He, too, is God's minister, And labors for some good By us not understood!

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Rabbi Jehosha had the skill To know that heaven is in God's will.

--James Russell Lowell.

GOD'S PRESENCE

POSSESSION, SATISFACTION, REFLECTION

THE SECRET OF HIS PRESENCE

In the secret of his presence I am kept from strife of tongues; His pavilion is around me, And within are ceaseless songs! Stormy winds, his word fulfilling, Beat without, but cannot harm, For the Master's voice is stilling Storm and tempest to a calm.

In the secret of his presence All the darkness disappears; For a sun that knows no setting, Throws a rainbow on my tears. So the day grows ever lighter, Broadening to the perfect noon; So the day grows ever brighter, Heaven is coming, near and soon.

In the secret of his presence Never more can foes alarm; In the shadow of the Highest, I can meet them with a psalm; For the strong pavilion hides me, Turns their fiery darts aside, And I know, whate'er betides me, I shall live because he died!

In the secret of his presence Is a sweet, unbroken rest; Pleasures, joys, in glorious fullness, Making earth like Eden blest; So my peace grows deep and deeper, Widening as it nears the sea, For my Saviour is my keeper, Keeping mine and keeping me!

--Henry Burton.

EYESERVICE

Eyeservice let me give The while I live; In shadow or in light, By day or night, With all my heart and skill-- Eyeservice still!

Yes, for the eyes I'll serve-- Nor faint nor swerve-- Are not the eyes of man, That lightly scan, But God's, that pierce and see The whole of me!

Beneath the farthest skies, Where morning flies, In heaven or in hell, If I should dwell, In dark or daylight fair, The Eyes are there!

No trembling fugitive, Boldly I live If, as in that pure sight, I live aright, Yielding with hand and will Eyeservice still!

--Amos R. Wells.

OMNIPRESENCE

Lord of all being, throned afar, Thy glory flames from sun and star; Center and soul of every sphere, Yet to each loving heart how near!

Sun of our life, thy quickening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day; Star of our hope, thy softened light Cheers the long watches of the night.

Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn; Our noontide is thy gracious dawn; Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign; All, save the clouds of sin, are thine!

Lord of all life, below, above, Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love, Before thy ever-blazing throne We ask no luster of our own.

Grant us thy truth to make us free, And kindling hearts that burn for thee, Till all thy living altars claim One holy light, one heavenly flame.

--Oliver Wendell Holmes.

THE CHERUBIC PILGRIM

God's spirit falls on me as dew drops on a rose, If I but like a rose my heart to him unclose.

The soul wherein God dwells--what Church can holier be? Becomes a walking tent of heavenly majesty.

Lo! in the silent night a child to God is born, And all is brought again that ere was lost or lorn.

Could but thy soul, O man, become a silent night God would be born in thee and set all things aright.

Ye know God but as Lord, hence Lord his name with ye, I feel him but as love, and Love his name with me.

Though Christ a thousand times in Bethlehem be born, If he's not born in thee thy soul is all forlorn.

The cross on Golgotha will never save thy soul, The cross in thine own heart alone can make thee whole.

Christ rose not from the dead, Christ still is in the grave If thou for whom he died art still of sin the slave.

In all eternity no tone can be so sweet As where man's heart with God in unison doth beat.

Whate'er thou lovest, man, that, too, become thou must; God, if thou lovest God, dust, if thou lovest dust.

Ah, would thy heart but be a manger for the birth, God would once more become a child on earth.

Immeasurable is the highest; who but knows it? And yet a human heart can perfectly enclose it.

--Johannes Scheffler.

THE LARGER VIEW

In buds upon some Aaron's rod The childlike ancient saw his God; Less credulous, more believing, we Read in the grass--Divinity.

From Horeb's bush the Presence spoke To earlier faiths and simpler folk; But now each bush that sweeps our fence Flames with the Awful Immanence!

To old Zacchaeus in his tree What mattered leaves and botany? His sycamore was but a seat Whence he could watch that hallowed street.

But now to us each elm and pine Is vibrant with the Voice divine, Not only from but in the bough Our larger creed beholds him now.

To the true faith, bark, sap, and stem Are wonderful as Bethlehem; No hill nor brook nor field nor herd But mangers the Incarnate Word!

Far be it from our lips to cast Contempt upon the holy past-- Whate'er the Finger writes we scan In manger, prophecy, or man.

Again we touch the healing hem In Nazareth or Jerusalem; We trace again those faultless years; The cross commands our wondering tears.

Yet if to us the Spirit writes On Morning's manuscript and Night's, In gospels of the growing grain, Epistles of the pond and plain,

In stars, in atoms, as they roll, Each tireless round its occult pole, In wing and worm and fin and fleece, In the wise soil's surpassing peace--

Thrice ingrate he whose only look Is backward focussed on the Book, Neglectful what the Presence saith, Though he be near as blood and breath!

The only atheist is one Who hears no Voice in wind or sun, Believer in some primal curse, Deaf in God's loving universe!

--Frederic Lawrence Knowles.

STILL WITH THEE

Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh, When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee; Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight, Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with thee.

Alone with thee amid the mystic shadows, The solemn hush of nature newly born; Alone with thee in breathless adoration, In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.

As in the dawning o'er the waveless ocean The image of the morning-star doth rest, So in this stillness thou beholdest only Thine image in the waters of my breast.

Still, still with thee! as to each new born morning A fresh and solemn splendor still is given, So does this blessed consciousness awaking Breathe each day nearness unto thee and heaven.

When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber, Its closing eyes look up to thee in prayer; Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading, But sweeter still, to wake and find thee there.

So shall it be at last, in that bright morning, When the soul waketh, and life's shadows flee; O in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning, Shall rise the glorious thought--I am with thee.

--Harriet Beecher Stowe.

There lives and works a soul in all things, And that soul is God.

--William Cowper.

THE ELIXIR

Teach me, my God and King, In all things thee to see, And what I do, in anything, To do it as for thee.

A man that looks on glass On it may stay his eye, Or, if he pleaseth, through it pass And then to heaven espy.

All may of thee partake. Nothing can be so mean Which with this tincture (for thy sake) Will not grow bright and clean.

A servant with this clause Makes drudgery divine. Who sweeps a room as for thy laws Makes that and th' action fine.

This is the famous stone That turneth all to gold; For that which God doth touch and own Cannot for less be told.

--George Herbert.

GOD'S PRESENCE

But God is never so far off As even to be near. He is within; our spirit is The home he holds most dear.

To think of him as by our side Is almost as untrue As to remove his throne beyond Those skies of starry blue.

So all the while I thought myself Homeless, forlorn, and weary, Missing my joy, I walked the earth, Myself God's sanctuary.

I come to thee once more, my God! No longer will I roam; For I have sought the wide world through And never found a home.

Though bright and many are the spots Where I have built a nest-- Yet in the brightest still I pined For more abiding rest.

For thou hast made this wondrous soul All for thyself alone; Ah! send thy sweet transforming grace To make it more thine own.

--Frederick William Faber.

GOD IS MINE

If God is mine then present things And things to come are mine; Yea, Christ, his word, and Spirit, too, And glory all divine.

If he is mine then from his love He every trouble sends; All things are working for my good, And bliss his rod attends.

If he is mine I need not fear The rage of earth and hell; He will support my feeble power, Their utmost force repel.

If he is mine let friends forsake, Let wealth and honor flee; Sure he who giveth me himself Is more than these to me.

If he is mine I'll boldly pass Through death's tremendous vale; He is a solid comfort when All other comforts fail.

Oh! tell me, Lord, that thou art mine; What can I wish beside? My soul shall at the fountain live, When all the streams are dried.

A PRESENT SAVIOUR

I have thee every hour, Most gracious Lord, That tender voice of thine Doth peace afford.

I have thee every hour, Thou stay'st near by; Temptations lose their power Since thou art nigh.

I have thee every hour, In joy and pain; With me thou dost abide, And life is gain.

I have thee every hour, Teach me thy will; All thy rich promises Thou dost fulfill.

I have thee every hour, Most Holy One, And I am thine indeed, Thou blessed Son.

--Annie S. Hawks, altered by J. M.

THE THOUGHT OF GOD

The thought of God, the thought of thee, Who liest near my heart, And yet beyond imagined space Outstretched and present art--

The thought of thee, above, below, Around me and within, Is more to me than health and wealth, Or love of kith and kin.

The thought of God is like the tree Beneath whose shade I lie And watch the fleet of snowy clouds Sail o'er the silent sky.

'Tis like that soft invading light Which in all darkness shines, The thread that through life's somber web In golden pattern twines.

It is a thought which ever makes Life's sweetest smiles from tears, It is a daybreak to our hopes, A sunset to our fears.

Within a thought so great, our souls Little and modest grow, And, by its vastness awed, we learn The art of walking slow.

The wild flower on the grassy mound Scarce bends its pliant form When overhead the autumnal wood Is thundering like a storm.

So is it with our humbled souls, Down in the thought of God, Scarce conscious in their sober peace Of the wild storms abroad.

To think of thee is almost prayer, And is outspoken praise; And pain can even passive thoughts To actual worship raise.

All murmurs lie inside thy will Which are to thee addressed; To suffer for thee is our work, To think of thee, our rest.

--Frederick William Faber.

Let thy sweet presence light my way, And hallow every cross I bear; Transmuting duty, conflict, care, Into love's service day by day.

OUR HEAVENLY FATHER

My God, how wonderful thou art, Thy majesty how bright, How beautiful thy mercy seat In depths of burning light!

How dread are thine eternal years, O everlasting Lord, By prostrate spirits, day and night, Incessantly adored.

How beautiful, how beautiful The sight of thee must be, Thine endless wisdom, boundless power, And awful purity!

O how I fear thee, living God! With deepest, tenderest fears, And worship thee with trembling hope And penitential tears.

Yet I may love thee too, O Lord! Almighty as thou art, For thou hast stooped to ask of me The love of this poor heart.

Oh, then, this worse than worthless heart In pity deign to take, And make it love thee for thyself, And for thy glory's sake.

No earthly father loves like thee, No mother half so mild Bears and forbears, as thou hast done With me, thy sinful child.

Only to sit and think of God, O what a joy it is! To think the thought, to breathe the name-- Earth has no higher bliss.

Father of Jesus, love's Reward! What rapture will it be, Prostrate before thy throne to lie And gaze, and gaze on thee!

--Frederick William Faber.

RULES FOR DAILY LIFE

Begin the day with God: Kneel down to him in prayer; Lift up thy heart to his abode And seek his love to share.

Open the Book of God, And read a portion there; That it may hallow all thy thoughts And sweeten all thy care.

Go through the day with God, Whate'er thy work may be; Where'er thou art--at home, abroad, He still is near to thee.

Converse in mind with God; Thy spirit heavenward raise; Acknowledge every good bestowed, And offer grateful praise.

Conclude the day with God: Thy sins to him confess; Trust in the Lord's atoning blood, And plead his righteousness.

Lie down at night with God, Who gives his servants sleep; And when thou tread'st the vale of death He will thee guard and keep.

HE FILLS ALL

All are but parts of one stupendous whole; Whose body nature is, and God the soul; That, changed through all, and yet in all the same; Great in the earth as in th' ethereal frame; Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stars and blossoms in the trees; Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent; Breathes in our souls, informs our mortal part, As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns, As the rapt seraph that adores and burns. To him no high, no low, no great, no small, He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.

* * * * *

All nature is but art, unknown to thee; All chance, direction which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good; And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear--whatever is, is right.

--Alexander Pope.

THE PRESENCE

I sit within my room and joy to find That thou who always lov'st art with me here; That I am never left by thee behind, But by thyself thou keep'st me ever near. The fire burns brighter when with thee I look, And seems a kindlier servant sent to me; With gladder heart I read thy holy book, Because thou art the eyes with which I see; This aged chair, that table, watch, and door Around in ready service ever wait; Nor can I ask of thee a menial more To fill the measure of my large estate; For thou thyself, with all a Father's care, Where'er I turn art ever with me there.

--Jones Very.

BLESSED THOUGHT OF GOD

One thought I have--my ample creed, So deep it is and broad, And equal to my every need-- It is the thought of God.

Each morn unfolds some fresh surprise, I feast at life's full board; And rising in my inner skies, Shines forth the thought of God.

At night my gladness is my prayer; I drop my daily load, And every care is pillowed there Upon the thought of God.

I ask not far before to see, But take in trust my road; Life, death, and immortality, Are in my thought of God.

To this their secret strength they owed The martyr's path who trod; The fountains of their patience flowed From out their thought of God.

Be still the light upon my way, My pilgrim staff and rod, My rest by night, my strength by day, O blessed thought of God.

--Frederick Lucian Hosmer.

EVENTIDE

At cool of day with God I walk My garden's grateful shade; I hear his voice among the trees, And I am not afraid.

I see his presence in the night-- And though my heart is awed I do not quail before the sight Or nearness of my God.

He speaks to me in every wind, He smiles from every star; He is not deaf to me, nor blind, Nor absent, nor afar.

His hand, that shuts the flowers to sleep, Each in its dewy fold, Is strong my feeble life to keep, And competent to hold.

I cannot walk in darkness long, My light is by my side; I cannot stumble or go wrong While following such a guide.

He is my stay and my defense; How shall I fail or fall? My helper is Omnipotence! My ruler ruleth all!

The powers below and powers above Are subject to his care; I cannot wander from his love Who loves me everywhere.

Thus dowered, and guarded thus, with him I walk this peaceful shade, I hear his voice among the trees, And I am not afraid.

--Caroline Atherton Mason.

From cellar unto attic all is clean: Nothing there is that need evade the eye; All the dark places, by the world unseen, Are as well ordered as what open lie.

Ah! souls are houses; and to keep them well, Nor, spring and autumn, mourn their wretched plight, To daily toil must vigilance compel, Right underneath God's scrutinizing light.

SAINTSHIP

To heaven approached a Sufi saint, From groping in the darkness late, And, tapping timidly and faint, Besought admission at God's gate.

Said God, "Who seeks to enter here?" "'Tis I, dear Friend," the saint replied, And trembling much with hope and fear. "If it be thou, without abide."

Sadly to earth the poor saint turned, To bear the scourging of life's rods; But aye his heart within him yearned To mix and lose its love in God's.

He roamed alone through weary years, By cruel men still scorned and mocked, Until from faith's pure fires and tears Again he rose, and modest knocked.

Asked God: "Who now is at the door?" "It is thyself, beloved Lord," Answered the saint, in doubt no more, But clasped and rapt in his reward.

--From the Persian, tr. by William Rounseville Alger.

OPEN THOU OUR EYES

(Luke 24. 15)

And he drew near and talked with them, But they perceived him not, And mourned, unconscious of that light, The gloom, the darkness, and the night That wrapt his burial spot.

Wearied with doubt, perplexed and sad, They knew nor help nor guide; While he who bore the secret key To open every mystery, Unknown was by their side.

Thus often when we feel alone, Nor help nor comfort near, 'Tis only that our eyes are dim, Doubting and sad we see not him Who waiteth still to hear.

"The darkness gathers overhead, The morn will never come." Did we but raise our downcast eyes, In the white-flushing eastern skies Appears the glowing sun.

In all our daily joys and griefs In daily work and rest, To those who seek him Christ is near, Our bliss to calm, to soothe our care, In leaning on his breast.

Open our eyes, O Lord, we pray, To see our way, our Guide; That by the path that here we tread, We, following on, may still be led In thy light to abide.

MAN

My God, I heard this day That none doth build a stately habitation But he that means to dwell therein. What house more stately hath there been, Or can be, than is man? to whose creation All things are in decay.

More servants wait on man Than he'll take notice of: in every path He treads down that which doth befriend him, When sickness makes him pale and wan. O mighty love! man is one world, and hath Another to attend him.

For us the winds do blow, The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow; Nothing we see but means our good, As our delight or as our treasure; The whole is either cupboard of our food, Or cabinet of pleasure.

The stars have us to bed; Night draws the curtain, which the sun withdraws; Music and light attend our head; All things unto our flesh are kind In their descent and being; to our mind, In their ascent and cause.

Since then, my God, thou hast So brave a palace built, O dwell in it That it may dwell with thee at last. Till then, afford us so much wit That, as the world serves us, we may serve thee, And both thy servants be.

--George Herbert.

EVER WITH THEE

I am with thee, my God-- Where I desire to be: By day, by night, at home, abroad, I always am with thee.

With thee when dawn comes on And calls me back to care, Each day returning to begin With thee, my God, in prayer.

With thee amid the crowd That throngs the busy mart; I hear thy voice, when time's is loud, Speak softly to my heart.

With thee when day is done And evening calms the mind; The setting as the rising sun With thee my heart shall find.

With thee when darkness brings The signal of repose; Calm in the shadow of thy wings Mine eyelids gently close.

With thee, in thee, by faith Abiding I shall be; By day, by night, in life, in death, I always am with thee.

--James D. Burns, altered by J. M.

SELF-EXAMINATION

By all means use sometime to be alone. Salute thyself: see what thy soul doth wear. Dare to look in thy chest; for 'tis thine own; And tumble up and down what thou findst there. Who cannot rest till he good fellows find, He breaks up homes, turns out of doors his mind.

Sum up by night what thou hast done by day; And in the morning, what thou hast to do. Dress and undress thy soul; mark the decay And growth of it; if, with thy watch, that too Be down, then wind up both; since we shall be Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree.

--George Herbert.

"SHOW ME THY FACE"

Show me thy face-- One transient gleam Of loveliness divine And I shall never think or dream Of other love save thine. All lesser light will darken quite, All lower glories wane; The beautiful of earth will scarce Seem beautiful again!

Show me thy face-- My faith and love Shall henceforth fixed be, And nothing here have power to move My soul's serenity. My life shall seem a trance, a dream, And all I feel and see Illusive, visionary--thou The one reality.

Show me thy face-- I shall forget The weary days of yore; The fretting ghosts of vain regret Shall haunt my soul no more; All doubts and fears for future years In quiet rest subside, And naught but blest content and calm Within my breast reside.

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.

Show me thy face-- And I shall be In heart and mind renewed; With wisdom, grace, and energy To work thy work endued. Shine clear, though pale, Behind the veil Until, the veil removed, In perfect glory I behold The Face that I have loved!

I stand in the great Forever, All things to me are divine; I eat of the heavenly manna, I drink of the heavenly wine.

LISTENING FOR GOD

I hear it often in the dark, I hear it in the light: Where is the voice that calls to me With such a quiet might? It seems but echo to my thought, And yet beyond the stars; It seems a heart-beat in a hush, And yet the planet jars.

O may it be that, far within My inmost soul, there lies A spirit-sky that opens with Those voices of surprise? And can it be, by night and day, That firmament serene Is just the heaven where God himself, The Father, dwells unseen?

O God within, so close to me That every thought is plain, Be judge, be friend, be Father still, And in thy heaven reign! Thy heaven is mine, my very soul! Thy words are sweet and strong; They fill my inward silences With music and with song.

They send me challenges to right, And loud rebuke my ill; They ring my bells of victory, They breathe my "Peace, be still!" They even seem to say: "My child, Why seek me so all day? Now journey inward to thyself, And listen by the way."

--William C. Gannett.

ALLAH'S HOUSE

Nanac the faithful, pausing once to pray, From holy Mecca turned his face away; A Moslem priest who chanced to see him there, Forgetful of the attitude in prayer, Cried "Infidel, how durst thou turn thy feet Toward Allah's house--the sacred temple seat?" To whom the pious Nanac thus replied: "Knowest thou God's house is, as the world is, wide? Then, turn thee, if thou canst, toward any spot Where mighty Allah's awful house is not."

--Frank Dempster Sherman.

IF THE LORD SHOULD COME

If the Lord should come in the morning, As I went about my work-- The little things and the quiet things That a servant cannot shirk, Though nobody ever sees them, And only the dear Lord cares That they always are done in the light of the sun-- Would he take me unawares?

If my Lord should come at noonday-- The time of the dust and heat, When the glare is white and the air is still And the hoof-beats sound in the street; If my dear Lord came at noonday, And smiled in my tired eyes, Would it not be sweet his look to meet? Would he take me by surprise?

If my Lord came hither at evening, In the fragrant dew and dusk, When the world drops off its mantle Of daylight, like a husk, And flowers, in wonderful beauty, And we fold our hands in rest, Would his touch of my hand, his low command, Bring me unhoped-for zest?

Why do I ask and question? He is ever coming to me, Morning and noon and evening, If I have but eyes to see. And the daily load grows lighter, The daily cares grow sweet, For the Master is near, the Master is here, I have only to sit at his feet.

--Margaret Elizabeth Sangster.

The day is long and the day is hard; We are tired of the march and of keeping guard; Tired of the sense of a fight to be won, Of days to live through, and of work to be done; Tired of ourselves and of being alone.

And all the while, did we only see, We walk in the Lord's own company; We fight, but 'tis he who nerves our arm; He turns the arrows which else might harm, And out of the storm he brings a calm.

--Susan Coolidge.

COME TO ME

Come to me, come to me, O my God; Come to me everywhere. Let the trees mean thee, and the grassy sod, And the water and the air.

For thou art so far that I often doubt, As on every side I stare, Searching within and looking without, If thou canst be anywhere.

How did men find thee in days of old? How did they grow so sure? They fought in thy name, they were glad and bold, They suffered and kept themselves pure.

But now they say--neither above the sphere Nor down in the heart of man, But only in fancy, ambition, and fear, The thought of thee began.

If only that perfect tale were true Which ages have not made old, Of the endless many makes one anew, And simplicity manifold!

But he taught that they who did his word, The truth of it sure would know; I will try to do it--if he be Lord Again the old faith will glow.

Again the old spirit-wind will blow That he promised to their prayer; And obeying the Son, I too shall know His Father everywhere.

--George Macdonald.

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 all I called life, Into the having of all things with Him! Into an ecstacy full to the brim! Wonderful loveliness, draining my cup! Wonderful purpose that ne'er gave me up! Wonderful patience, enduring and strong! Wonderful glory to which I belong!

IF I HIM BUT HAVE

If I Him but have, If he be but mine-- If my heart, hence to the grave, Ne'er forgets his love divine-- Know I naught of sadness, Feel I naught but worship, love, and gladness.

If I Him but have, Glad with all I part; Follow on my pilgrim staff, My Lord, only, with true heart; Leave them, nothing saying, On broad, bright, and crowded highways straying.

If I Him but have, Glad I fall asleep; Aye the flood that his heart gave Strength within my heart shall keep; And with soft compelling Make it tender, through and through it swelling.

If I Him but have, Mine the world I hail! Glad as cherub smiling, grave, Holding back the Virgin's veil. Sunk and lost in seeing, Earthly cares have died from all my being.

Where I have but Him Is my Fatherland, And all gifts and graces come Heritage into my hand; Brothers long deplored I in his disciples find restored.

--George Macdonald.

Quiet from God! How beautiful to keep This treasure the All-merciful hath given; To feel, when we awake or when we sleep, Its incense round us like a breath from heaven.

To sojourn in the world, and yet apart; To dwell with God, and still with man to feel; To bear about forever in the heart The gladness which his spirit doth reveal.

--Sarah J. Williams.

HIS CHOSEN ONES

Some souls there are, beloved of God, Who, following where the saints have trod, Learn such surrender of the will They seem insensible of ill.

Yet, finely strung and sensitive, They live far more than others live, And grief's and pain's experience Must be to them far more intense.

O mystery--that such can know A life impregnable to woe! O paradox that God alone In secret proveth to his own!

It must be that supremest grace So nerves them for the heavenly race Their litanies are turned to psalms, Their crosses, even here, to palms.

--Harriet McEwen Kimball.

When, courting slumber, The hours I number, And sad cares cumber My weary mind, This thought shall cheer me: That thou art near me, Whose ear to hear me Is still inclined.

My soul thou keepest, Who never sleepest; 'Mid gloom the deepest There's light above; Thine eyes behold me, Thine arms enfold me; Thy word has told me That God is love.

We are not angels, but we may Down in earth's corners kneel, And multiply sweet acts of love, And murmur what we feel.

--Frederick William Faber.

Through thee, meseems, the very rose is red, From thee the violet steals its breath in May, From thee draw life all things that grow not gray, And by thy force the happy stars are sped.

--James Russell Lowell.

COME TO US, LORD

Come to us, Lord, as the daylight comes When the darkling night has gone, And the quickened East is tremulous With the thrill of the wakened dawn.

Come to us, Lord, as the tide comes on With the waves from the distant sea; Come, till our desert places smile, And our souls are filled with thee.

There are in this loud, stunning tide Of human care and crime, With whom the melodies abide Of th' everlasting chime! Who carry music in their heart Through dusky lane and wrangling mart, Plying their daily task with busier feet Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.

--John Keble.

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees takes off his shoes. The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries, And daub their natural faces unaware More and more from the first similitude.

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

O Name all other names above, What art thou not to me, Now I have learned to trust thy love And cast my care on thee! The thought of thee all sorrow calms; Our anxious burdens fall; His crosses turn to triumph palms Who finds in God his all.

--Frederick Lucian Hosmer.

Far off thou art, but ever nigh, I have thee still, and I rejoice, I prosper circled with thy voice; I shall not lose thee though I die.

--Alfred Tennyson.

Let the Loved One but smile on this poor heart of mine, I will sell the two worlds for one drop of his wine.

--From the Persian.

CONFIDENCE

Thy presence, Lord, the place doth fill, My heart is now thy throne, Thy holy, just and perfect will Now in my flesh is done.

My steadfast soul, from falling free, Doth now no longer rove, For Christ is all the world to me And all my heart is love.

--Charles Wesley, altered by J. M.

Two worlds are ours; 'tis only sin Forbids us to descry The mystic heaven and earth within Plain as the sea and sky.

Thou who hast given me eyes to see And love this sight so fair, Give me a heart to find out thee, And read thee everywhere.

--John Keble.

Speak to him, thou, for he hears, And spirit with spirit can meet; Closer is he than breathing, And nearer than hands and feet.

--Alfred Tennyson.

Heaven above is softer blue, Earth around is sweeter green, Something lives in every hue Christless eyes have never seen.

Birds with gladder songs o'erflow, Flowers with deeper beauties shine; Since I knew, as now I know, I am his and he is mine.

Unheard, because our ears are dull, Unseen, because our eyes are dim, He walks the earth, the Wonderful, And all good deeds are done to him.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

Where'er I look one Face alone I see, With every attribute of beauty in it blent; Still, still the Godhead's face entrances me, Yielding transcendency of all that can be spent.

--From the Persian.

IMMANENCE

Not only in the cataract and the thunder Or in the deeps of man's uncharted soul, But in the dew-star dwells alike the wonder And in the whirling dust-mite the control.

--Charles G. D. Roberts.

'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours And ask them what report they bore to heaven.

--Edward Young.

A governed heart, thinking no thought but good, Makes crowded houses holy solitude.

--Edwin Arnold.

But where will God be absent; in his face Is light, and in his shadow healing, too.

--Robert Browning.

And good may ever conquer ill, Health walk where pain has trod; "As a man thinketh, so is he"; Rise, then, and think with God.

God is law, say the wise; O Soul, and let us rejoice, For, if He thunder by law, the thunder is yet his voice.

--Alfred Tennyson.

Whatever road I take, it joins the street Which leadeth all who walk it thee to meet.

O work thy works in God. He can rejoice in naught Save only in himself And what himself hath wrought.

To live, to live, is life's great joy; to feel The living God within--to look abroad, And, in the beauty that all things reveal, Still meet the living God.

--Robert Leighton.

JESUS

HIS PRECIOUSNESS, AND BEAUTY, AND LOVE

OUR MASTER

Immortal Love, forever full, Forever flowing free, Forever shared, forever whole, A never-ebbing sea!

No fable old, nor mythic lore, Nor dream of bards and seers, No dead fact stranded on the shore Of the oblivious years;--

But warm, sweet, tender, even yet A present help is he; And faith has still its Olivet, And love its Galilee.

The healing of his seamless dress Is by our beds of pain; We touch him in life's throng and press, And we are whole again.

Through him the first fond prayers are said Our lips of childhood frame, The last low whispers of our dead Are burdened with his name.

O Lord and Master of us all! Whate'er our name or sign, We own thy sway, we hear thy call, We test our lives by thine.

We faintly hear, we dimly see, In differing phrase we pray; But, dim or clear, we own in thee The Light, the Truth, the Way!

To do thy will is more than praise, As words are less than deeds, And simple trust can find thy ways We miss with chart of creeds.

No pride of self thy service hath, No place for me and mine; Our human strength is weakness, death, Our life, apart from thine.

Apart from thee all gain is loss, All labor vainly done; The solemn shadow of thy cross Is better than the sun.

Alone, O Love, ineffable! Thy saving name is given: To turn aside from thee is hell, To walk with thee is heaven.

--John Greenleaf Whittier.

MY HEART IS FIXED

I'll not leave Jesus,--never, never! Ah, what can more precious be? Rest and joy and light are ever In his hand to give to me. All things that can satisfy, Having Jesus, those have I.

Love has bound me fast unto him, I am his and he is mine; Daily I for pardon sue him, Answers he with peace divine. On that Rock my trust is laid, And I rest beneath its shade.

Without Jesus earth would weary, Seem almost like hell to be; But if Jesus I see near me Earth is almost heaven to me. Am I hungry, he doth give Bread on which my soul can live.

Spent with him, one little hour Giveth a year's worth of gain; Grace and peace put forth their power Joy doth wholly banish pain; One faith-glance that findeth him Maketh earthly crowns look dim.

O how light upon my shoulder Lies my cross, now grown so small! For the Lord is my upholder, Fits it to me, softens all; Neither shall it always stay, Patience, it will pass away.

Those who faithfully go forward In his changeless care shall go, Nothing's doubtful or untoward, To the flock who Jesus know. Jesus always is the same; True and faithful is his name.

CHRIST'S SYMPATHY

If Jesus came to earth again, And walked and talked in field and street, Who would not lay his human pain Low at those heavenly feet?

And leave the loom, and leave the lute, And leave the volume on the shelf, To follow him, unquestioning, mute, If 'twere the Lord himself?

How many a brow with care o'erworn, How many a heart with grief o'er-laden, How many a man with woe forlorn, How many a mourning maiden,

Would leave the baffling earthly prize, Which fails the earthly weak endeavor, To gaze into those holy eyes And drink content forever!

His sheep along the cool, the shade, By the still watercourse he leads; His lambs upon his breast are laid; His hungry ones he feeds.

And I where'er he went would go, Nor question where the paths might lead; Enough to know that here below I walked with God indeed!

If it be thus, O Lord of mine, In absence is thy love forgot? And must I, when I walk, repine Because I see thee not?

If this be thus, if this be thus, Since our poor prayers yet reach thee, Lord, Since we are weak, once more to us Reveal the living Word!

O nearer to me, in the dark, Of life's low house, one moment stand; And give me keener eyes to mark The moving of thy hand.

--Edward Bulwer Lytton.

There's not a craving in the mind Thou dost not meet and still; There's not a wish the heart can have Which thou dost not fulfill.

--Frederick William Faber.

FINDING ALL IN JESUS

O Love that wilt not let me go, I rest my weary soul on thee; I give thee back the life I owe, That in thine ocean depth its flow May richer, fuller be.

O Light that followest all my way, I yield my flickering torch to thee; My heart restores its borrowed ray, That in thy sunshine's blaze its day May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to thee; I trace the rainbow through the rain, And feel the promise is not vain, That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head, I dare not ask to fly from thee; I lay in dust life's glory dead, And from the ground there blossoms red Life that shall endless be.

--George Matheson.

EAST LONDON

'Twas August, and the fierce sun overhead Smote on the squalid streets of Bethnal Green, And the pale weaver, through his windows seen In Spitalfields, look'd thrice dispirited.

I met a preacher there I knew, and said: "Ill and o'erworked, how fare you in this scene?" "Bravely!" said he; "for I of late have been Much cheered with thoughts of Christ, the living bread."

O human soul! as long as thou canst so Set up a mark of everlasting light Above the howling senses' ebb and flow To cheer thee, and to right thee if thou roam-- Not with lost toil thou laborest thro' the night! Thou mak'st the heaven thou hop'st indeed thy home.

--Matthew Arnold.

PRECIOUSNESS OF CHRIST

Jesus, the very thought of thee With sweetness fills the breast; But sweeter far thy face to see, And in thy presence rest.

No voice can sing, no heart can frame, Nor can the memory find, A sweeter sound than thy blest name, O Saviour of mankind!

O hope of every contrite heart! O joy of all the meek! To those who ask how kind thou art, How good to those who seek!

But what to those who find? Ah, this Nor tongue nor pen can show; The love of Jesus, what it is, None but his loved ones know.

Jesus, our only joy be thou, As thou our prize wilt be; In thee be all our glory now, And through eternity.

--Bernard of Clairvaux, tr. by Edward Caswall.

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 my eyes with tears are dim, There is naught can yield me comfort Like a little talk with him.

Ah, this 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 my ransom, To make me all his own, And he'll ne'er forget his promise To me his purchased one.

I cannot live without him, Nor would I if I could; He is my daily portion, My medicine and food. He's altogether lovely, None can with him compare; Chiefest among ten thousand, And fairest of the fair.

So I'll wait a little longer, Till his appointed time, And along the upward pathway My pilgrim feet shall climb. There in my Father's dwelling, Where many mansions be, I shall sweetly talk with Jesus, And he will talk with me.

NOTHING TO WISH OR TO FEAR

His name yields the richest perfume, And sweeter than music his voice; His presence disperses my gloom, And makes all within me rejoice; I should, were he always thus nigh, Have nothing to wish or to fear; No mortal so happy as I, My summer would last all the year.

Content with beholding his face, My all to his pleasure resigned, No changes of season or place Would make any change in my mind; While blest with a sense of his love A palace a toy would appear; And prisons would palaces prove If Jesus would dwell with me there.

--John Newton.

THE HEART OF GOD

There is no love like the love of Jesus, Never to fade or fall Till into the fold of the peace of God He has gathered us all.

There is no heart like the heart of Jesus, Filled with a tender lore; Not a throb or throe our hearts can know But he suffered before.

There is no voice like the voice of Jesus; Ah! how sweet its chime, Like the musical ring of some rushing spring In the summer-time!

O might we listen that voice of Jesus! O might we never roam Till our souls should rest, in peace, on his breast, In the heavenly home!

--W. E. Littlewood.

THE TOUCH

"He touched her hand, and the fever left her." He touched her hand as he only can, With the wondrous skill of the Great Physician, With the tender touch of the Son of man, And the fever-pain in the throbbing temples Died out with the flush on brow and cheek, And the lips that had been so parched and burning Trembled with thanks that she could not speak, And the eyes where the fever light had faded Looked up, by her grateful tears made dim, And she rose and ministered in her household; She rose and ministered unto him.

"He touched her hand, and the fever left her." O blessed touch of the Man divine! So beautiful to arise and serve him When the fever is gone from your life and mine. It may be the fever of restless serving With heart all thirsty for love and praise, And eyes all aching and strained with yearning Toward self-set goals in the future days. Or it may be fever of spirit anguish, Some tempest of sorrow that does not down, Till the cross at last is in meekness lifted And the head stoops low for the thorny crown. Or it may be a fever of pain and anger, When the wounded spirit is hard to bear, And only the Lord can draw forth the arrows Left carelessly, cruelly rankling there.

Whatever the fever, his touch can heal it; Whatever the tempest, his voice can still. There is only a rest as we seek his pleasure, There is only a rest as we choose his will. And some day, after life's fitful fever, I think we shall say, in the home on high, "If the hands that he touched but did his bidding, How little it matters what else went by!" Ah, Lord, Thou knowest us altogether, Each heart's sore sickness, whatever it be; Touch thou our hands! Let the fever leave us, And so shall we minister unto thee!

JESUS OUR JOY

Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts! Thou Fount of life! thou Light of men! From the best bliss that earth imparts We turn, unfilled, to thee again.

Thy truth unchanged hath ever stood; Thou savest those that on thee call; To them that seek thee thou art good, To them that find thee, all in all.

We taste thee, O thou Living Bread, And long to feast upon thee still; We drink of thee, the Fountain Head, And thirst our souls from thee to fill!

Our restless spirits yearn for thee Where'er our changeful lot is cast; Glad, when thy gracious smile we see, Blest, when our faith can hold thee fast.

O Jesus, ever with us stay; Make all our moments calm and bright; Chase the dark night of sin away; Shed o'er the world thy holy light.

--Bernard of Clairvaux, tr. by Ray Palmer.

FRIEND OF SOULS

O Friend of souls! how blest the time When in thy love I rest! When from my weariness I climb E'en to thy tender breast! The night of sorrow endeth there, Thy rays outshine the sun; And in thy pardon and thy care The heaven of heavens is won.

The world may call itself my foe, Or flatter and allure, I care not for the world--I go To this tried friend and sure. And when life's fiercest storms are sent Upon life's wildest sea, My little bark is confident Because it holdeth thee.

When the law threatens endless death Upon the awful hill, Straightway from her consuming breath My soul goes higher still-- Goeth to Jesus, wounded, slain, And maketh him her home, Whence she will not go out again, And where death cannnot come.

I do not fear the wilderness-- Where thou hast been before; Nay, rather will I daily press After thee, near thee, more. Thou art my food, on thee I lean; Thou makest my heart sing; And to thy heavenly pastures green All thy dear flock dost bring.

And if the gate that opens there Be dark to other men, It is not dark to those who share The heart of Jesus then. That is not losing much of life Which is not losing thee, Who art as present in the strife As in the victory.

To others death seems dark and grim, But not, O Lord, to me; I know thou ne'er forsakest him Who puts his trust in thee. Nay, rather with a joyful heart I welcome the release From this dark desert, and depart To thy eternal peace.

--Wolfgang C. Dessler.

MY LORD AND I

I have a Friend so precious, So very dear to me, He loves me with such tender love, He loves so faithfully, I could not live apart from him, I love to feel him nigh; And so we dwell together, My Lord and I.

Sometimes I'm faint and weary; He knows that I am weak, And as he bids me lean on him His help I gladly seek; He leads me in the paths of light Beneath a sunny sky, And so we walk together, My Lord and I.

He knows how much I love him, He knows I love him well, But with what love he loveth me My tongue can never tell. It is an everlasting love In ever rich supply, And so we love each other, My Lord and I.

I tell him all my sorrows, I tell him all my joys, I tell him all that pleases me, I tell him what annoys. He tells me what I ought to do, He tells me how to try, And so we talk together, My Lord and I.

He knows how I am longing Some weary soul to win, And so he bids me go and speak The loving word for him. He bids me tell his wondrous love, And why he came to die, And so we work together, My Lord and I.

I have his yoke upon me, And easy 'tis to bear; In the burden which he carries I gladly take a share; For then it is my happiness To have him always nigh; We bear the yoke together, My Lord and I.

--L. Shorey.

Ever, when tempted, make me see, Beneath the olive's moon-pierced shade, My God alone, outstretched and bruised, And bleeding on the earth he made; And make me feel it was my sin, As though no other sin there were, That was to him who bears the world A load that he could scarcely bear.

--Frederick William Faber.

JESUS ALL-SUFFICIENT

If only he is mine-- If but this poor heart Never more, in grief or joy, May from him depart, Then farewell to sadness; All I feel is love, and hope, and gladness.

If only he is mine, Then from all below, Leaning on my pilgrim staff, Gladly forth I go From the crowd who follow, In the broad, bright road, their pleasures false and hollow.

If only he is mine, Then all else is given; Every blessing lifts my eyes And my heart to heaven. Filled with heavenly love, Earthly hopes and fears no longer tempt to move.

There, when he is mine, Is my Fatherland, And my heritage of bliss Cometh from his hand. Now I find again, In his people, love long lost, and mourned in vain.

--Novalis.

JESUS SUPREME

Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, Live o'er again in me, That, filled with love, I may become A Christ in my degree.

Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, My inmost being fill; So shall I think as thou dost think, And will as thou dost will.

Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, Thy life transfigure mine; And through this veil of mortal flesh Here may thy glory shine.

Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, Thy love's constraint I feel, Thy cross I see, and mind and heart Obey its mute appeal.

Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, And when this life is o'er May I be with thee where thou art, Like thee, forever more.

ALL FOR JESUS

What shall I sing for thee, My Lord and Light? What shall I bring to thee, Master, to-night? O for the strong desire! O for the touch of fire! Then shall my tuneful lyre Praise thee aright.

Thou hast given all for me, Saviour divine! I would give all to thee, Evermore thine! Let my heart cling to thee, Let my lips sing for thee, Let me just bring to thee All that is mine!

Didst thou not die for me, Ransom for sin? Ascending on high for me, Pleading within? All shall be dross for thee, All shall be loss for thee, Welcome the cross for thee I, too, shall win!

What can I do for thee, Glorious Friend? Let me be true to thee Right to the end! Close to thy bleeding side, Washed in the crimson tide, On till the waves divide, Till I ascend!

Then a still sweeter song, Jesus, I'll bring; Up 'mid the ransomed throng Thee will I sing! Never to leave thee now, Never to grieve thee now, Low at thy feet to bow, Wonderful King!

--Henry Burton.

CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE

O who like thee, so calm, so bright, Lord Jesus Christ, thou Light of light; O who like thee did ever go So patient through a world of woe? O who like thee so humbly bore The scorn, the scoffs of men, before; So meek, so lowly, yet so high, So glorious in humility?

Through all thy lifelong weary years, A Man of sorrows and of tears, The cross, where all our sins were laid, Upon thy bending shoulders weighed; And death, that sets the prisoner free, Was pang and scoff and scorn to thee; Yet love through all thy torture glowed, And mercy with thy life-blood flowed.

O wondrous Lord, our souls would be Still more and more conformed to thee! Would lose the pride, the taint of sin, That burns these fevered veins within? And learn of thee, the lowly One, And, like thee, all our journey run, Above the world, and all its mirth, Yet weeping still with weeping earth.

Be with us as we onward go; Illumine all our way of woe; And grant us ever on the road To trace the footsteps of our God; That when thou shalt appear, arrayed In light, to judge the quick and dead, We may to life immortal soar Through thee, who livest evermore.

--Arthur Cleveland Coxe.

IT PASSETH KNOWLEDGE

It passeth knowledge, that dear love of thine, My Jesus! Saviour! Yet this soul of mine Would of that love in all its depth and length, Its height and breadth and everlasting strength, Know more and more.

It passeth telling, that dear love of thine, My Jesus! Saviour! yet these lips of mine Would fain proclaim to sinners far and near A love which can remove all guilty fear, And love beget.

It passeth praises, that dear love of thine, My Jesus! Saviour! yet this heart of mine Would sing a love so rich, so full, so free, Which brought an undone sinner, such as me, Right home to God.

But ah! I cannot tell, or sing, or know, The fulness of that love whilst here below, Yet my poor vessel I may freely bring; O thou who art of love the living spring, My vessel fill.

I am an empty vessel! scarce one thought Or look of love to thee I've ever brought; Yet, I may come and come again to thee With this--the contrite sinner's truthful plea-- "Thou lovest me!"

Oh! fill me, Jesus! Saviour! with thy love! My woes but drive me to the fount above: Thither may I in childlike faith draw nigh, And never to another fountain fly But unto thee!

And when, my Jesus, thy dear face I see, When at that lofty throne I bend the knee, Then of thy love--in all its breadth and length, Its height and depth, and everlasting strength-- My soul shall sing.

--Mary Shekelnot.

SEEING JESUS

I would see Jesus. As I muse, and, thinking, Grow amazed--bewildered with a strange delight, My faith is roused, my spirit seemeth drinking A foretaste of that ever-longed-for sight.

I know that I shall see him; in that hour When he from fleshly bonds release doth give, Earth's mists dispersing at his word of power, Then shall I look upon my God and live!

O blessed hope! O glorious aspiration! A little while and I the Christ shall see! A patient waiting for the full salvation-- Then shall I know my Lord as he knows me.

I have seen the face of Jesus: Tell me not of aught beside. I have heard the voice of Jesus: All my soul is satisfied.

SHE BROUGHT HER BOX OF ALABASTER

She brought her box of alabaster; The precious spikenard filled the room With honor worthy of the Master, A costly, rare, and rich perfume.

Her tears for sin fell hot and thickly On his dear feet, outstretched and bare; Unconscious how, she wiped them quickly With the long ringlets of her hair.

And richly fall those raven tresses Adown her cheek, like willow leaves, As stooping still, with fond caresses, She plies her task of love, and grieves.

Oh may we thus, like loving Mary, Ever our choicest offerings bring, Nor grudging of our toil, nor chary Of costly service to our King.

Methinks I hear from Christian lowly Some hallowed voice at evening rise, Or quiet morn, or in the holy Unclouded calm of Sabbath skies;

I bring my box of alabaster, Of earthly loves I break the shrine, And pour affections, purer, vaster, On that dear head, those feet of thine.

The joys I prized, the hopes I cherished, The fairest flowers my fancy wove, Behold my fondest idols perished, Receive the incense of my love!

What though the scornful world, deriding, Such waste of love, of service, fears? Still let me pour, through taunt and chiding, The rich libation of my tears.

I bring my box of alabaster; Accepted let the offering rise! So grateful tears shall flow the faster, In founts of gladness from mine eyes!

--C. L. Ford.

Not I but Christ be honored, loved, exalted, Not I but Christ be seen, be known, be heard, Not I but Christ in every look and action, Not I but Christ in every thought and word.

JESUS, I LOVE THEE

Jesus, I love thee, not because I hope for heaven thereby, Nor yet because, if I love not, I must forever die.

I love thee, Saviour dear, and still I ever will love thee, Solely because my God, thou art, Who first hast loved me.

For me to lowest depth of woe Thou didst thyself abase; For me didst bear the cross and shame, And manifold disgrace;

For me didst suffer pain unknown, Blood-sweat and agony-- Yea, death itself--all, all for me, Who was thine enemy.

Then why, O blessed Saviour mine. Should I not love thee well? Not for the sake of winning heaven Nor of escaping hell.

Not with the hope of gaining aught, Nor seeking a reward; But freely, fully, as thyself Hast loved me, O Lord!

Even so I love thee, and will love, And in thy praise will sing, Solely because thou art my God And my eternal king.

--Francis Xavier.

I'VE FOUND A JOY IN SORROW

I've found a joy in sorrow, A secret balm for pain, A beautiful to-morrow Of sunshine after rain; I've found a branch of healing Near every bitter spring, A whispered promise stealing O'er every broken string.

I've found a glad hosanna For every woe and wail, A handful of sweet manna When grapes of Eschol fail; I've found a Rock of Ages When desert wells were dry; And, after weary stages, I've found an Elim nigh--

An Elim with its coolness, Its fountains, and its shade; A blessing in its fullness When buds of promise fade; O'er tears of soft contrition I've seen a rainbow light; A glory and fruition So near!--yet out of sight.

My Saviour, thee possessing, I have the joy, the balm. The healing and the blessing. The sunshine and the psalm; The promise for the fearful, The Elim for the faint, The rainbow for the tearful, The glory for the saint!

PATIENCE OF JESUS

What grace, O Lord, and beauty shone Around thy steps below! What patient love was seen in all Thy life and death of woe!

For ever on thy burdened heart A weight of sorrow hung; Yet no ungentle, murmuring word Escaped thy silent tongue.

Thy foes might hate, despise, revile, Thy friends unfaithful prove; Unwearied in forgiveness still, Thy heart could only love.

O give us hearts to love like thee, Like thee, O Lord, to grieve Far more for others' sins than all The wrongs that we receive.

One with thyself, may every eye In us, thy brethren, see That gentleness and grace that spring From union, Lord, with thee.

--Edward Denny.

True wisdom is in leaning On Jesus Christ, our Lord; True wisdom is in trusting His own life-giving word; True wisdom is in living Near Jesus every day; True wisdom is in walking Where he shall lead the way.

TELL ME ABOUT THE MASTER

Tell me about the Master! I am weary and worn to-night, 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 aweary, aweary, And longs, like a child, for rest.

Tell me about the Master! Of the hills he in loneliness trod, When the tears and the blood of his anguish Dropped down on Judea's sod. For to me life's numerous milestones 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 wrong 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.

Yet I know that, whatever of sorrow Or pain or temptation befall, The infinite Master has suffered, And knoweth and pitieth all. So tell me the sweet old story, That falls on each wound like a balm, And my heart that was bruised and broken Shall grow patient and strong and calm.

JESU

Jesu is in my heart, his sacred name Is deeply carved there; but the other week A great affliction broke the little frame, E'en all to pieces; which I went to seek; And first I found the corner where was J, After where ES, and next where U was graved. When I had got these parcels, instantly I sat me down to spell them, and perceived That to my broken heart he was I EASE YOU, And to my whole is JESU.

--George Herbert.

SEALED

I am thine own, O Christ-- Henceforth entirely thine; And life from this glad hour, New life, is mine!

No earthly joy shall lure My quiet soul from thee; This deep delight, so pure, Is heaven to me.

My little song of praise In sweet content I sing; To thee the note I raise, My King, my King!

I cannot tell the art By which such bliss is given; I know thou hast my heart, And I--have heaven!

O peace! O holy rest! O balmy breath of love! O heart divinest, best, Thy depth I prove.

I ask this gift of thee-- A life all lily fair, And fragrant as the gardens be Where seraphs are.

--Helen Bradley.

JESUS, MY GOD AND MY ALL

O Jesus! Jesus! dearest Lord! Forgive me if I say For very love thy sacred name A thousand times a day.

I love thee so, I know not how My transports to control; Thy love is like a burning fire Within my very soul.

O wonderful! that thou shouldst let So vile a heart as mine Love thee with such a love as this, And make so free with thine.

The craft of this wise world of ours Poor wisdom seems to me; Ah! dearest Jesus! I have grown Childish with love of thee!

For thou to me art all in all, My honor and my wealth, My heart's desire, my body's strength, My soul's eternal health.

Burn, burn, O Love! within my heart Burn fiercely night and day, 'Till all the dross of earthly loves Is burned, and burned away.

O light in darkness, joy in grief, O heaven begun on earth! Jesus! my love! my treasure! who Can tell what thou art worth?

O Jesus! Jesus! sweetest Lord! What art thou not to me? Each hour brings joys before unknown, Each day new liberty!

What limit is there to thee, love? Thy flight where wilt thou stay? On! on! our Lord is sweeter far To-day than yesterday.

O love of Jesus! blessed love! So will it ever be; Time cannot hold thy wondrous growth, No, nor eternity.

--Frederick William Faber.

LOVE--JOY

As on a window late I cast mine eye, I saw a vine drop grapes with J and C Anneal'd on every bunch. One standing by Ask'd what it meant. I (who am never loth To spend my judgment) said it seem'd to me To be the body and the letters both Of Joy and Charity. Sir, you have not miss'd, The man replied; it figures JESUS CHRIST.

--George Herbert.

WHY NOT?

Why not leave them all with Jesus-- All thy cares, All the things that fret thee daily, Earth's affairs? Pour out all thy sin and longing; He has felt Need of human love as thou hast, And has knelt At his Father's feet, imploring, For the day, Strength to guard against temptation By the way.

Why not leave them all with Jesus-- On his breast Find a balm for all earth-suffering, Peace and rest? Ah! he knows that thou hast striven To walk right; Longs to make the thorny pathway Clear and bright. See, he bathes thy feet, all bleeding, With his tears! Give to him thyself, thy burden, And thy fears.

JESUS ON THE SEA

When the storm of the mountains on Galilee fell And lifted its waters on high-- And the faithless disciples were bound in the spell Of mysterious alarm--their terrors to quell Jesus whispered, "Fear not: it is I."

The storm could not bury that word in the wave, For 'twas taught through the tempest to fly; It shall reach his disciples in every clime, And his voice shall be near, in each troublous time, Saying, "Be not afraid: it is I."

When the spirit is broken with sickness or sorrow, And comfort is ready to die; The darkness shall pass and, in gladness to-morrow, The wounded complete consolation shall borrow From his life-giving word, "It is I."

When death is at hand, and the cottage of clay Is left with a tremulous sigh, The gracious forerunner is smoothing the way For its tenant to pass to unchangeable day, Saying, "Be not afraid: it is I."

When the waters are passed, and the glories unknown Burst forth on the wondering eye, The compassionate "Lamb in the midst of the throne" Shall welcome, encourage, and comfort his own, And say, "Be not afraid: it is I."

LET US SEE JESUS

We would see Jesus--for the shadows lengthen Across the little landscape of our life; We would see Jesus--our weak faith to strengthen For the last weariness, the mortal strife.

We would see Jesus--for life's hand hath rested With its dark touch on weary heart and brow; And though our souls have many billows breasted Others are rising in the distance now.

We would see Jesus--other lights are paling Which for long years we have rejoiced to see; The blessings of our pilgrimage are failing-- We would not mourn them, for we come to thee.

We would see Jesus--yet the spirit lingers Round the dear object it has loved so long, And earth from earth will scarce unclose its fingers, Our love for thee makes not this love less strong.

We would see Jesus--the strong Rock-foundation Whereon our feet are set by sovereign grace; Not life or death, with all their agitation, Can thence remove us if we seek his face.

We would see Jesus--sense is all too blinding, And heaven appears too dim and far away; We would see Jesus--to gain the sweet reminding That thou hast promised our great debt to pay.

We would see Jesus--that is all we're needing, Strength, joy, and willingness come with the sight; We would see Jesus--dying, risen, pleading-- Then welcome day, and farewell mortal night!

--Anna B. Warner.

A SONG OF LOVE

To thee, O dear, dear Saviour! My spirit turns for rest; My peace is in thy favor, My pillow on thy breast; Though all the world deceive me, I know that I am thine, And thou wilt never leave me, O blessed Saviour mine!

In thee my trust abideth, On thee my hope relies, O thou whose love provideth For all beneath the skies! O thou whose mercy found me, From bondage set me free, And then forever bound me With threefold cords to thee!

My grief is in the dullness With which this sluggish heart Doth open to the fullness Of all thou wouldst impart; My joy is in thy beauty Of holiness divine, My comfort in the duty That binds my life to thine.

Alas! that I should ever Have fail'd in love to thee, The only One who never Forgot or slighted me. O for a heart to love thee More truly as I ought, And nothing place above thee In deed, or word, or thought.

O for that choicest blessing Of living in thy love, And thus on earth possessing The peace of heaven above! O for the bliss that by it The soul securely knows, The holy calm and quiet Of faith's serene repose!

--John Samuel Bewley Monsell.

THE UNFAILING FRIEND

O Jesus! Friend unfailing, How dear art thou to me! Are cares and fears assailing? I find my strength in thee! Why should my feet grow weary Of this my pilgrim way? Rough though the path, and dreary, It ends in perfect day.

Naught, naught I count as treasure; Compared, O Christ, with thee! Thy sorrow without measure Earned peace and joy for me. I love to own, Lord Jesus, Thy claims o'er me and mine; Bought with thy blood most precious, Whose can I be but thine?

What fills my soul with gladness? 'Tis thine abounding grace! Where can I look in sadness, But, Jesus, in thy face? My all is thy providing; Thy love can ne'er grow cold; In thee, my refuge, hiding, No good wilt thou withhold.

Why should I droop in sorrow? Thou'rt ever by my side: Why, trembling, dread the morrow? What ill can e'er betide? If I my cross have taken, 'Tis but to follow thee; If scorned, despised, forsaken, Naught severs me from thee!

Oh, worldly pomp and glory! Your charms are spread in vain! I've heard a sweeter story, I've found a truer gain! Where Christ a place prepareth, There is my loved abode; There shall I gaze on Jesus, There shall I dwell with God!

For every tribulation, For every sore distress, In Christ I've full salvation, Sure help, and quiet rest. No fear of foes prevailing! I triumph, Lord, in thee! O Jesus! Friend unfailing! How dear art thou to me!

THE SONG OF A HEATHEN

(Sojourning in Galilee, A. D. 32)

If Jesus Christ is a man-- And only a man--I say That of all mankind I cleave to him, And to him will I cleave alway.

If Jesus Christ is a God-- And the only God--I swear I will follow him through heaven and hell, The earth, the sea, the air.

--Richard Watson Gilder.

"IT IS TOWARD EVENING"

Abide with me, O Christ; thou must not go For life's brief day is now far down the west; In dark'ning clouds my sun is sinking low; Lord, stay and soothe thy fretted child to rest.

Abide with me; ere I can fall on sleep My throbbing head must on thy breast recline, That I may hear anew thy voice, and feel The thrill of thy pierced hands in touch with mine.

Abide with me; so then shall I have peace The world can never give nor take from me; Nor life nor death can that calm peace disturb, Since life and death alike are gain through thee.

If life, 'tis well; for though in paths of pain, In desert place afar, I'm led aside, Yet here 'tis joy my Master's cup to share; And so I pray, O Christ, with me abide.

'Tis gain if death; for in that far-off land-- No longer far--no veil of flesh will dim For me the wondrous beauty of my King, As he abides with me and I with him.

Abide with me; I have toiled gladly on, A little while, in stir of care and strife; The task is laid aside at thy command, Make thou it perfect with thy perfect life.

THE BLESSED FACE

Jesus, these eyes have never seen That radiant form of thine; The veil of sense hangs dark between Thy blessed face and mine.

I see thee not, I hear thee not, Yet art thou oft with me; And earth hath ne'er so dear a spot As where I meet with thee.

Like some bright dream that comes unsought When slumbers o'er me roll, Thine image ever fills my thought And charms my ravished soul.

Yet though I have not seen, and still Must rest in faith alone, I love thee, dearest Lord, and will, Unseen but not unknown.

When death these mortal eyes shall seal, And still this throbbing heart, The rending veil shall thee reveal, All-glorious as thou art.

--Ray Palmer.

TO THEE

I bring my sins to thee The sins I cannot count, That all may cleansed be In thy once-opened fount. I bring them, Saviour, all to thee; The burden is too great for me.

My heart to thee I bring, The heart I cannot read; A faithless, wandering thing, An evil heart indeed. I bring it, Saviour, now to thee, That fixed and faithful it may be

To thee I bring my care, The care I cannot flee; Thou wilt not only share, But take it all for me. O loving Saviour, now to thee, I bring the load that wearies me.

I bring my grief to thee, The grief I cannot tell; No words shall needed be, Thou knowest all so well. I bring the sorrow laid on me, O suffering Saviour! all to thee.

My joys to thee I bring, The joys thy love has given, That each may be a wing To lift me nearer heaven. I bring them, Saviour, all to thee, Who hast procured them all for me.

My life I bring to thee, I would not be my own; O Saviour! let me be Thine ever, thine alone! My heart, my life, my all, I bring To thee, my Saviour and my King.

WE LONG TO SEE JESUS

We would see Jesus! we have longed to see him Since first the story of his love was told; We would that he might sojourn now among us, As once he sojourned with the Jews of old.

We would see Jesus! see the infant sleeping, As on our mother's knees we, too, have slept; We would see Jesus! see him gently weeping, As we, in infancy, ourselves have wept.

We would behold him, as he wandered lowly-- No room for him, too often, in the inn-- Behold that life, the beautiful, the holy, The only sinless in this world of sin.

We would see Jesus! we would have him with us, A guest beloved and honored at our board; How blessed were our bread if it were broken Before the sacred presence of the Lord!

We would see Jesus! we would have him with us, Friend of our households and our children dear, Who still, should death and sorrow come among us, Would hasten to us, and would touch the bier.

We would see Jesus! not alone in sorrow, But we would have him with us in our mirth; He, at whose right hand are joys forever, Doth not disdain to bless the joys of earth.

We would see Jesus! but the wish is faithless; Thou still art with us, who hast loved us well; Thy blessed promise, "I am with you always," Is ever faithful, O Immanuel!

--Anna E. Hamilton.

"TELL JESUS"

When thou wakest in the morning, Ere thou tread the untried way Of the lot that lies before thee, Through the coming busy day, Whether sunbeams promise brightness, Whether dim forebodings fall, Be thy dawning glad or gloomy, Go to Jesus--tell him all!

In the calm of sweet communion Let thy daily work be done; In the peace of soul outpouring, Care be banished, patience won; And if earth, with its enchantments, Seek the spirit to enthrall, Ere thou listen, ere thou answer, Turn to Jesus--tell him all.

Then, as hour by hour glides by thee, Thou wilt blessed guidance know; Thine own burdens being lightened, Thou canst bear another's woe; Thou canst help the weak ones onward, Thou canst raise up those that fall; But remember, while thou servest, Still tell Jesus--tell him all!

And if weariness creep o'er thee As the day wears to its close, Or if sudden fierce temptation Brings thee face to face with foes, In thy weakness, in thy peril, Raise to heaven a trustful call; Strength and calm for every crisis Come--in telling Jesus all.

ANYWHERE WITH JESUS

Anywhere with Jesus, Says the Christian heart; Let him take me where he will, So we do not part. Always sitting at his feet There's no cause for fears; Anywhere with Jesus, In this vale of tears.

Anywhere with Jesus, Though he leadeth me Where the path is rough and long. Where the dangers be; Though he taketh from my heart All I love below, Anywhere with Jesus Will I gladly go.

Anywhere with Jesus-- Though he please to bring Into floods or fiercest flames, Into suffering; Though he bid me work or wait, Only bear for him-- Anywhere with Jesus, This shall be my hymn.

Anywhere with Jesus; For it cannot be Dreary, dark, or desolate When he is with me; He will love me to the end, Every need supply; Anywhere with Jesus, Should I live or die.

OUR ROCK

If life's pleasures cheer thee, Give them not thy heart, Lest the gifts ensnare thee From thy God to part; His praises speak, his favor seek, Fix there thy hope's foundation, Love him, and he shall ever be The Rock of thy salvation.

If sorrow e'er befall thee, Painful though it be, Let not fear appall thee: To thy Saviour flee; He, ever near, thy prayer will hear, And calm thy perturbation; The waves of woe shall ne'er o'erflow The Rock of thy salvation.

Death shall never harm thee, Shrink not from his blow, For thy God shall arm thee And victory bestow; For death shall bring to thee no sting, The grave no desolation; 'Tis gain to die with Jesus nigh-- The Rock of thy salvation.

--Francis Scott Key.

The dearest thing on earth to me Is Jesus' will; Whate'er I do, where'er I be, To do his will. Worldly pleasures cannot charm me, Powers of evil cannot harm me, Death itself cannot alarm me, For 'tis his will.

SWEET PROMISES

O Jesus, I have promised, To serve thee to the end; Be thou forever near me, My Master and my Friend. I shall not fear the battle If thou art by my side, Nor wander from the pathway If thou wilt be my guide.

O let me feel thee near me; The world is ever near; I see the sights that dazzle, The tempting sounds I hear; My foes are ever near me, Around me and within; But, Jesus, draw thou nearer, And shield my soul from sin.

O Jesus, thou hast promised To all who follow thee, That where thou art in glory There shall thy servant be; And, Jesus, I have promised To serve thee to the end; O give me grace to follow My Master and my Friend.

--John E. Bode.

THE KING OF LOVE

The King of love my Shepherd is, Whose goodness faileth never; I nothing lack if I am his, And he is mine forever.

Where streams of living water flow My ransomed soul he leadeth, And where the verdant pastures grow With food celestial feedeth.

Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, But yet in love he sought me, And on his shoulder gently laid, And home rejoicing brought me.

In death's dark vale I fear no ill, With thee, dear Lord, beside me; Thy rod and staff my comfort still, Thy cross before to guide me.

And so, through all the length of day, Thy goodness faileth never; Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise Within thy house forever.

--Henry W. Baker.

WE WOULD SEE JESUS

We would see Jesus when our hopes are brightest And all that earth can grant is at its best; When not a drift of shadow, even the lightest, Blurs our clear atmosphere of perfect rest.

We would see Jesus when the joy of living Holds all our senses in a realm of bliss, That we may know he hath the power of giving Enduring rapture more supreme than this.

We would see Jesus when our pathway darkens, Beneath the dread of some impending ill; When the discouraged soul no longer harkens To hope, who beckons in the distance still.

We would see Jesus when the stress of sorrow Strains to their utmost tension heart and brain; That he may teach us how despair may borrow From faith the one sure antidote of pain.

We would see Jesus when our best are taken, And we must meet, unshared, all shocks of woe; Because he bore for us, alone, forsaken, Burdens whose weight no human heart could know.

We would see Jesus when our fading vision, Lost to the consciousness of earth and sky, Has only insight for the far elysian; We would see Jesus when we come to die!

--Margaret J. Preston.

ALL THINGS IN JESUS

Jesus, the calm that fills my breast, No other heart than thine can give; This peace unstirred, this joy of rest, None but thy loved ones can receive.

My weary soul has found a charm That turns to blessedness my woe; Within the shelter of thine arm I rest secure from storm and foe.

In desert wastes I feel no dread, Fearless I walk the trackless sea; I care not where my way is led, Since all my life is life with thee.

O Christ, through changeful years my Guide, My Comforter in sorrow's night, My Friend, when friendless--still abide, My Lord, my Counsellor, my Light.

My time, my powers, I give to thee; My inmost soul 'tis thine to move; I wait for thy eternity, I wait in peace, in praise, in love.

--Frank Mason North.

EVERYWHERE WITH JESUS

Everywhere with Jesus; O how sweet the thought! Filling all my soul with joy, Deep with comfort fraught. Never absent far from him, Always at his side; Everywhere with Jesus, Trusting him to guide.

Everywhere with Jesus; For no place can be Where I may not find him near, Very near to me; Closer than the flesh I wear-- In my inmost heart-- Everywhere with Jesus; We shall never part.

Everywhere with Jesus; Do whate'er I may, Work, or talk, or walk abroad, Study, preach, or pray, Still I find him, full of love, Ready ere I call. Everywhere with Jesus; He's my all in all.

Everywhere with Jesus; Let the world assail, Naught can shake my sure repose. He will never fail. I am weak, but he is strong, Mighty to defend; Everywhere with Jesus, Safe with such a friend.

Everywhere with Jesus; Careful should I be Lest some secret thought of guile His pure eye may see. Holy, harmless, undefiled, He no sin can know; Everywhere with Jesus Spotless I may go.

Everywhere with Jesus Would that all might say; Happy then beyond compare, Glad by night and day, All would taste of joy sublime, Perfect peace and rest: Everywhere with Jesus, Nothing could molest.

--James Mudge.

THE DEAREST FRIEND

Do not I love thee, O my Lord? Then let me nothing love; Dead be my heart to every joy, When Jesus cannot move.

Is not thy name melodious still To mine attentive ear? Doth not each pulse with pleasure bound My Saviour's voice to hear?

Hast thou a lamb in all thy flock I would disdain to feed? Hast thou a foe before whose face I fear thy cause to plead?

Would not mine ardent spirit vie With angels round the throne To execute thy sacred will, And make thy glory known?

Thou know'st I love thee, dearest Lord, But O I long to soar Far from the sphere of mortal joys, And learn to love thee more.

--Philip Doddridge.

As by the light of opening day The stars are all concealed, So earthly pleasures fade away When Jesus is revealed.

Creatures no more divide my choice; I bid them all depart: His name, his love, his gracious voice, Have fixed my roving heart.

--John Newton.

FAIREST LORD JESUS

Fairest Lord Jesus! Ruler of all nature! O thou of God and man the Son! Thee will I cherish, Thee will I honor, Thee, my soul's glory, joy, and crown.

Fair are the meadows, Fairer still the woodlands, Robed in the blooming garb of spring; Jesus is fairer, Jesus is purer, Who makes the woeful heart to sing.

Fair is the sunshine, Fairer still the moonlight, And all the twinkling starry host; Jesus shines brighter, Jesus shines purer Than all the angels heaven can boast.

--From the German.

THE CALL OF JESUS

Jesus calls us; o'er the tumult Of our life's wild, restless sea, Day by day his sweet voice soundeth, Saying, Christian, follow me!

Jesus calls us from the worship Of the vain world's golden store; From each idol that would keep us; Saying, Christian, love me more!

In our joys and in our sorrows, Days of toil and hours of ease, Still he calls, in cares and pleasures, Christian, love me more than these!

Jesus calls us! by thy mercies, Saviour, may we hear thy call; Give our hearts to thy obedience, Serve and love thee best of all.

--Cecil Frances Alexander.

If washed in Jesus' blood, Then bear his likeness too, And as you onward press Ask, What would Jesus do? Be brave to do the right, And scorn to be untrue; When fear would whisper, Yield, Ask, What would Jesus do?

LIFE

TIME, OPPORTUNITY, EXPERIENCE, CHARACTER

WITHOUT HASTE AND WITHOUT REST

Without haste and without rest; Bind the motto to thy breast. Bear it with thee as a spell, Storm or sunshine, guard it well! Heed not flowers that round thee bloom; Bear it onward to the tomb!

Haste not--let no thoughtless deed Mar the spirit's steady speed; Ponder well, and know the right, Onward, then, with all thy might; Haste not--years can ne'er atone For one reckless action done!

Rest not--life is sweeping by. Do and dare before you die; Something worthy and sublime Leave behind to conquer time; Glorious 'tis to live for aye, When these forms have passed away.

Haste not--rest not. Calm in strife Meekly bear the storms of life; Duty be thy polar guide; Do the right, whate'er betide; Haste not--rest not. Conflicts past, God shall crown thy work at last!

--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

WHY DO I LIVE?

I live for those who love me; For those I know are true; For the heaven that smiles above me And awaits my spirit too; For all human ties that bind me, For the task my God assigned me, For the bright hope left behind me, And the good that I can do.

I live to learn their story Who suffered for my sake, To emulate their glory And follow in their wake; Bards, martyrs, patriots, sages, The nobles of all ages. Whose deeds crown History's pages And time's great volume make.

I live to hail the season-- By gifted minds foretold-- When man shall live by reason, And not alone for gold; When man to man united, And every wrong thing righted, The whole world shall be lighted As Eden was of old.

I live to hold communion With all that is divine, To feel that there is union 'Twixt nature's heart and mine; To profit by affliction, Reap truth from fields of fiction, Grow wiser from conviction, Fulfilling God's design.

I live for those who love me, For those who know me true, For the heaven that smiles above me And awaits my spirit too; For the wrongs that need resistance, For the cause that needs assistance, For the future in the distance, And the good that I can do.

--George Linnaeus Banks.

BEAUTIFUL THINGS

Beautiful faces are those that wear-- It matters little if dark or fair-- Whole-souled honesty printed there.

Beautiful eyes are those that show Like crystal panes where hearth fires glow, Beautiful thoughts that burn below.

Beautiful lips are those whose words Leap from the heart like songs of birds, Yet whose utterances prudence girds.

Beautiful hands are those that do Work that is earnest, and brave, and true, Moment by moment the long day through.

Beautiful feet are those that go On kindly ministries to and fro-- Down lowliest ways, if God wills it so.

Beautiful shoulders are those that bear Ceaseless burdens of homely care With patient grace and daily prayer.

Beautiful lives are those that bless-- Silent rivers of happiness Whose hidden fountain but few may guess.

Beautiful twilight, at set of sun; Beautiful goal, with race well won; Beautiful rest, with work well done.

Beautiful graves, where grasses creep, Where brown leaves fall, where drifts lie deep Over worn-out hands--O, beautiful sleep.

AT SUNSET

It isn't the thing you do, dear, It's the thing you've left undone Which gives you a bit of heartache At the setting of the sun. The tender word forgotten, The letter you did not write, The flower you might have sent, dear, Are your haunting ghosts to-night.

The stone you might have lifted Out of a brother's way, The bit of heartsome counsel You were hurried too much to say, The loving touch of the hand, dear, The gentle and winsome tone That you had no time or thought for, With troubles enough of your own.

The little act of kindness, So easily out of mind; Those chances to be angels, Which every mortal finds-- They come in night and silence-- Each chill, reproachful wraith-- When hope is faint and flagging, And a blight has dropped on faith.

For life is all too short, dear, And sorrow is all too great, To suffer our slow compassion That tarries until too late; And it's not the thing you do, dear, It's the thing you leave undone, Which gives you the bit of heartache At the setting of the sun.

--Margaret E. Sangster.

THE BUILDERS

All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, or low; Each thing in its place is best; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise Time is with material filled; Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build.

Truly shape and fashion these; Leave no yawning gaps between; Think not, because no man sees, Such things will remain unseen.

In the elder days of Art Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; For the gods see everywhere.

Let us do our work as well, Both the unseen and the seen; Make the house where gods may dwell Beautiful, entire, and clean;

Else our lives are incomplete, Standing in these walls of Time, Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble as they seek to climb.

Build to-day, then, strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure Shall to-morrow find its place.

Thus alone can we attain To those turrets where the eye Sees the world as one vast plain And one boundless reach of sky.

--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amid the war of elements, The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds.

--Joseph Addison.

RETROSPECTION

He was better to me than all my hopes, He was better than all my fears; He made a road of my broken works And a rainbow of my tears. The billows that guarded my sea girt path But 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 my 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 that he sought was trusting in him And in nothing on earth beside.

He guided by paths that I could not see, By ways that I have not known, 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 clouds by day.

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. Has he changed for me? Nay! He changes not. He will bring me by some new way, Through fire and flood and each crafty foe, As safely as yesterday.

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 brows 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.

Never a watch on the dreariest halt But some promise of love endears; I read from the past that my 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, Is the covenant care of my God.

--Anna Shipton.

ONE DAY'S SERVICE

O to serve God for a day! From jubilant morn to the peace and the calm of the night To tread no path but his happy and blossoming way, To seek no delight But the joy that is one with the joy at heaven's heart; Only to go where thou art, O God of all blessing and beauty! to love, to obey With obedience sweetened by love and love made strong by the right; Not once, not once to be drunken with self, Or to play the hypocrite's poisoned part, Or to bend the knee of my soul to the passion for pelf, Or the glittering gods of the mart; Through each glad hour to lay on the wings of its flight Some flower for the angels' sight; Some fragrant fashion of service, scarlet and white-- White for the pure intent, and red where the pulses start. O, if thus I could serve him, could perfectly serve him one day, I think I could perfectly serve him forever--forever and aye!

--Amos R. Wells.

Life is a burden; bear it. Life is a duty; dare it. Life is a thorn crown; wear it. Though it break your heart in twain, Though the burden crush you down, Close your lips and hide the pain; First the cross and then the crown.

BETTER THINGS

Better to smell the violet cool than sip the glowing wine; Better to hark a hidden brook than watch a diamond shine.

Better the love of gentle heart than beauty's favors proud, Better the rose's living seed than roses in a crowd.

Better to love in loneliness than bask in love all day; Better the fountain in the heart than the fountain by the way.

Better be fed by a mother's hand than eat alone at will; Better to trust in God than say, My goods my storehouse fill.

Better to be a little wise than in knowledge to abound; Better to teach a child than toil to fill perfection's round.

Better sit at a master's feet than thrill a listening state; Better suspect that thou art proud than be sure that thou art great.

Better to walk in the realm unseen than watch the hour's event; Better the well done at the last than the air with shoutings rent.

Better to have a quiet grief than a hurrying delight; Better the twilight of the dawn than the noonday burning bright.

Better to sit at the water's birth than a sea of waves to win; To live in the love that floweth forth than the love that cometh in.

Better a death when work is done than earth's most favored birth; Better a child in God's great house than the king of all the earth.

--George Macdonald.

Time is indeed a precious boon, But with the boon a task is given: The heart must learn its duty well To man on earth and God in heaven.

--Eliza Cook.

THE LENGTH OF LIFE

Are your sorrows hard to bear? Life is short! Do you drag the chain of care? Life is short! Soon will come the glad release Into rest and joy and peace; Soon the weary thread be spun, And the final labor done. Keep your courage! Hold the fort! Life is short!

Are you faint with hope delayed? Life is long! Tarries that for which you prayed? Life is long! What delights may not abide-- What ambitions satisfied-- What possessions may not be In God's great eternity? Lift the heart! Be glad and strong! Life is long!

--Amos R. Wells.

IS LIFE WORTH LIVING?

Is life worth living? Yes, so long As there is wrong to right, Wail of the weak against the strong, Or tyranny to fight; Long as there lingers gloom to chase, Or streaming tear to dry, One kindred woe, one sorrowing face, That smiles as we draw nigh; Long as a tale of anguish swells The heart and lids grow wet, And at the sound of Christmas bells We pardon and forget; So long as Faith with Freedom reigns And loyal Hope survives, And gracious Charity remains To leaven lowly lives; While there is one untrodden tract For Intellect or Will, And men are free to think and act, Life is worth living still.

--Alfred Austin.

The Moving Finger writes, and having writ Moves on; nor all thy piety nor wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.

--Omar Khayyam.

LENGTH OF DAYS

He liveth long who liveth well; All other life is short and vain; He liveth longest who can tell Of living most for heavenly gain.

He liveth long who liveth well; All else is being flung away; He liveth longest who can tell Of true things truly done each day.

Waste not thy being; back to him Who freely gave it, freely give; Else is that being but a dream; 'Tis but to be, and not to live.

Be wise, and use thy wisdom well; Who wisdom speaks must live it too; He is the wisest who can tell How first he lived, then spoke the true.

Be what thou seemest! live thy creed! Hold up to earth the torch divine; Be what thou prayest to be made; Let the great Master's steps be thine.