Poems by Rebekah Smith Part 13

Ere long at home in Heaven, His place of final rest-- There's no oppressor there; And none will be oppressed.

All harmony and love, All joy and glory there-- Say, would you not in these Eternal blessings share?

Live then for joys like these; Hear Jesus' voice to-day, Who comes to me, I will In no wise cast away.

Just as you are, then, come; Secure his pardoning love, And have, at last, the bliss, And joy of Heaven above.

My Sheep Hear My Voice.

The voice of a stranger my sheep will not hear; I know them, they follow, my words reach their ear.

I'll lead them, direct them, they never need stray, I myself am the life, and the truth, and the way.

Yea, Lord, this we know; but we lose sight of thee; Unguarded we're snared ere our danger we see; So hidden the net, 'tis in thy light alone That a spirit that's not of thee clearly is known.

O Lord search us out; our impurities heal; Thou, tempted, though sinless, knowest all that we feel; A way of escape for the humble thou'lt find, And help them the pure testimony to bind.

How sweet and consoling the true Shepherd's voice!

His love I'll acknowledge and in him rejoice; O Lord I believe, help my unbelief now, To trust all to thee and perform every vow.

My strength is but weakness; be thou, Lord, my strength; Thy love may I know in its hight, depth and length; Reflecting thine image, thy will being mine, My darkness enlightened, the true light must s.h.i.+ne.

We then can do all things through Jesus our Lord, With the sword of the Spirit, his own written word; The foes that lurk inward being all put to flight, G.o.d truly goes with us our battles to fight.

Each keeping the ranks, all united in one, Saying, Lord, as thou hast commanded, we've done; No weapon will prosper formed here to divide, And victory will turn upon Israel's side.

Where Is Thy G.o.d?

"My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy G.o.d?" Ps. 42: 3.

Through day and night my tears have been my meat, Anguish and grief there find a blest retreat; The spirit crushed, the heart with anguish riven, Almost forgets there will be rest in Heaven.

Dear loved one sleeping--sympathy, oh, where?

Is there no one who will our sorrows share?

The flowing streamlet, and the murmuring rill, In ocean find a kindred spirit still.

Do tears oft say, Oh! where is now thy G.o.d?

Submit to this and every chastening rod.

I'd calmly yield to every needed ill, And learn to bear G.o.d's visitation still.

Not unaccustomed to the galling yoke, Though oft uncalled for, I would bear each stroke; Though wet with tears my pillow oft may be, Still to the Lord for succor will I flee.

They who Love the Law.

Great peace have they that love thy law, Them nothing will offend; They'll bear neglect, reproach and scorn, Though without cause contemned.

Their innocence will bear them up, Though falsely they're accused; Their hearts will melt with love for those By whom they are abused.

The court of Heaven their cause will plead, The innocent will clear; Though men may load their names with guilt, While they continue here.

A consciousness of right within, Great peace and joy afford; How free, how happy, oh! how blest, Communing with the Lord.

He says revile not, when reviled, Thy wrongs I will repay; Be every burden cast on me, I'll be thy strength and stay.

G.o.d, the Comforter of Those Who Are Cast Down.

In view of dear and loved ones gone, We oft feel desolate and lone.

We seek man's sympathy in vain; A pa.s.sing look we hardly gain.

But few can feel another's woe; And fewer still will with us go To share the depth of heart-felt grief; And sacrifice to give relief.

To bear affliction's chastening rod, Our confidence must be in G.o.d.

With this above the cloud we soar, And soon we'll shout our suffering o'er.

Disease and dark misfortune's frown, Then will not sink our spirits down.

We'll shout, O death where is thy sting?

O grave thou canst no victory bring!

By Jesus, our Deliverer, freed, No light of sun or moon we need.

His glory is the city's light, And with him there we've all a right.

Each bitter pang which here we bear, Will be a gem of glory there.

Th' eternal weight of glory, wrought By suffering is not dearly bought.

Be cold indifference, grief or pain Mine to endure--the loss is gain.

Through sorrow's depths I here would wade To be through sufferings perfect made.

Worldly Sorrow.

Worldly sorrow worketh death; Sink not beneath its power; 'Twill darken much that else were bright, In mercy's lingering hour.