Chapter I: Shall Not Want (1)

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."