In Genesis, the world was made;
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Be Strong!
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift; We have hard work to do and loads to lift; Shun not the struggle-face it; 'tis God's gift. Be Strong! Say not, "The days are evil. Who's to blame?" And fold the hands and acquiesce-oh shame! Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God's name. Be Strong! It matters not how deep intrenched the wrong, How hard the battle goes, the day how long; Faint not-fight on! Tomorrow comes the song. -Maltbie Davenport Babcock O God, the Rock of Ages,
Who evermore hast been, What time the tempest rages, Our dwelling-place serene: Before Thy first creations, O Lord, the same as now, To endless generations, The Everlasting Thou! Our years are like the shadows On sunny hills that lie, Or grasses in the meadows That blossom but to die: A sleep, a dream, a story, By strangers quickly told, An unremaining glory Of things that soon are old. O Thou who canst not slumber, Whose light grows never pale, Teach us aright to number Our years before they fail! On us Thy mercy lighten, On us Thy goodness rest, And let Thy Spirit brighten The hearts Thyself hast blessed! -Edward H. Bickersteth Sometime, when all life's lessons have been learned,
And sun and stars forevermore have set, The things which our weak judgments here have spurned, The things o'er which we grieved with lashes wet, Will flash before us out of life's dark night, As stars shine most in deeper tints of blue; And we shall see how all God's plans are 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 e'en as prudent parents disallow Too much of sweet to craving babyhood, So God, perhaps, is keeping from us now Life's sweetest things, because it seemeth good. And if, sometimes, commingled with life's wine, We find the wormwood, and rebel and shrink, Be sure a wiser hand than yours or mine Pours out the potion for our lips to drink; And if some friend you love is lying low, Where human kisses cannot reach his face, Oh, do not blame the loving Father so, But wear your sorrow with obedient grace! And you shall shortly know that lengthened breath Is not the sweetest gift God sends 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 today. 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 chalices of gold. And it, through patient toil, we reach the land Where tired feet, with sandals loosed, may rest, When we shall clearly see and understand, I think that we will say, "God knew the best!" -May Riley Smith One ship drives east and another drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow. 'Tis the set of the sails And not the gales Which tells us the way to go. Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate, As we voyage along through life: 'Tis the set of a soul That decides its goal, And not the calm or the strife. -Ella Wheeler Wilcox The camel at the close of day
Kneels down upon the sandy plain To have his burden lifted off And rest again. My soul, thou too shouldst to thy knees When daylight draweth to a close, And let thy Master lift thy load, And grant repose. Else how canst thou tomorrow meet, With all tomorrow's work to do, If thou thy burden all the night Dost carry through? The camel kneels at break of day To have his guide replace his load, Then rises up anew to take The desert road. So thou shouldst kneel at morning dawn That God may give thy daily care, Assured that He no load too great Will make thee bear. -Anna Temple Whitney Not understood. We move along asunder;
Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep Along the years; we marvel and we wonder Why life is life. And then we fall asleep- Not understood. Not understood. We gather false impressions, And hug them closer as the years go by, Till virtues often seem to us transgressios; And thus men rise and fall, and live and die- Not understood. Not understood. Poor souls with stunted vision Oft measure giants by their narrow guage; The poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision Are oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age- Not understood. Not understanding. The secret springs of action Which lie beneath the surface and the show Are disregarded; with self-satisfaction We judge our neighbor, and they often go- Not understood. Not understood. How trifles often change us! The thoughtless sentence or the fancied slight Destroys long years of friendship, and estrange us, And on our souls there falls a freezing blight- Not understood. Not understood. How many breasts are aching For lack of sympathy! Ah, day to day How many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking! How many noble spirits pass away- Not understood. O God! that men would see a little clearer, Or judges less harshly where they cannot see; O God! that men would draw a little nearer To one another; they'd be nearer Thee- And understood. -Thomas Bracken The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. The unwearied sun from day to day Does his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an almighty Hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly, to the listening earth, Repeats the story of her birth; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though in solemn silence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball? What though nor real voice nor sound Amid their radiant orbs be found/ In reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, Forever singing as they shine, "The Hand that made us is divine!" -Joseph Addison Last Eve I passed beside a blacksmith's door,
And heard the anvil ring the vesper chime; Then, looking in, I saw upon the floor Old hammers, worn with beating years of time. "How many anvils have you had," said I, "To wear and batter all these hammers so?" "Just one," said he, and then, with twinkling eye, "The anvil wears the hammers out, you know." And so, thought I, the anvil of God's Word, For ages skeptic blows have beat upon; Yet, though the noise of falling blows was heard, The anvil is unharmed-the hammers gone. -Unknown They borrowed a bed to lay His head
When Christ the Lord came down; They borrowed the ass in the mountain pass For Him to ride to town; But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore Were His own- The Cross was His own. He borrowed the bread when the crowd He fed On the grassy mountain side, He borrowed the dish of broken fish With which He satisfied. But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore Were His own- The Cross was His own. He borrowed the ship in which to sit To teach the multitude; He borrowed a nest in which to rest- He had never a home so rude; But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore Were His own- The Cross was His own. He borrowed a room on His way to the tomb The Passover Lamb to eat; They borrowed a cave for Him a grave, They borrowed a winding sheet. But the crown that He wore and the Cross that He bore Were His own- The Cross was His own. -Unknown |
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