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Poems by Rebekah Smith Part 17

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Appeal to the Sinner.

Though earth delights and charms us here, its treasures are but naught; In wisdom's light 'tis clearly seen how dear its love is bought, The price though now not realized, must soon be strictly paid.

For this the soul must perish soon, in hopeless ruin laid.

The second death must be endured in anguish and despair; While you will see the righteous saved, no friend can reach you there.

Oh! loss beyond all losses! Then what profit here to gain This fleeting world, and call at last for endless life, in vain!

The blood of Jesus set at naught--rejected every call-- The Spirit will be forced to yield, and let G.o.d's vengeance fall.

The wrath of G.o.d e'en now impends; and soon you'll feel its weight.

Oh! flee for refuge while there's hope; full soon 'twill be too late.

A moment more the Saviour waits; for you his blood he pleads, My blood! my Father, oh, my blood! forgive the sinner's deeds!

But if you still refuse to bow, and be by him forgiven, You must be banished from the Lord, and find no place in Heaven.

To free from sin and second death, the Saviour's blood has cost-- What weeping and what wailing when you see what you have lost.

G.o.d's justice will be manifest in your destruction sure; And hopeless agony will be your portion to endure.

Once more in prayer I prostrate fall, once more I'll plead your case; Have mercy, Lord, and here bestow unmerited free grace.

He's knocking now! he's wet with dew! Oh! let the Saviour in; He'll sup with you, and you with him; he'll cleanse you from all sin.

He'll shelter from the coming storm; no plague shall e'er come nigh; He'll hide from G.o.d's avenging wrath, and you shall never die.

Life's water pure is here: come, drink! 'tis freely offered still; The Spirit and the Bride say, Come! Come, whosoever will.

The Love of Many is Waxed Cold.

Are we suffering persecution, trying G.o.d's commands to keep?

Are our spirits crushed within us? Do we oft in silence weep?

From the world naught else we look for; we expect its coldest frown; But when those we love turn from us, how we sink in sorrow down!

Where we've felt G.o.d's image planted, where in union we have prayed, Where our faith has gained the victory, and we knew from Heaven our aid, Oh! what change has cooled the fervor; what could mean this cold retreat?

Lord, let thine in union ever, and in love, each other greet.

G.o.d's own searching eye is on us! Jesus feels our every grief!

He'll not leave his own thus wounded, but will bring them swift relief; Making known our every duty, teaching where he'd have us go, Saying, Fear not! I'll be with you, and all needed help bestow.

Though you see your bread withholden, find no place to lay your head; Cast your all on Heaven's protection: G.o.d to life can raise the dead!

Who the widow's oil replenished? Who kept good her needed store, When Elijah shared her morsel, having naught to purchase more?

If we blindly hug earth's treasures, where shall we a shelter find?

Soon the plagues will be upon us! all then on the altar bind.

Do you say 'tis on the altar? By the fruit it will be known: G.o.d is searching out his people, and is sealing for his own.

Let us fear lest we offend him, and he pa.s.s our dwelling by: He will have a holy people, whom no plague can e'er come nigh.

Haste to get thee disentangled! Haste to get from bondage free!

Lose not for this world's possessions, life and immortality!

Early Recollections.

I look back to the past, call to mind former days; When life was all life, all illumined its rays; When I entered the ball room in pleasing attire, Having all that my vain mind or wish could desire.

I had naught here to check, all elated in mind, Both pastor and people the gay circle joined; When the priest craved a blessing on dainties most rare, Oh! why should I think any harm could be there?

No cloud had come o'er me; all prospects were bright; This vain course I pursued with exquisite delight; I dreamed not that tears would these pleasures efface, That sickness and death would come in for a place.

But my own dear loved father, in manhood and bloom, Was called from life's stage and consigned to the tomb; How great such a change, and how solemn the day, The same priest referred to was with us to pray.

Being then in youth's bloom, in its glory and prime, My grief wore away with the swiftness of time.

True, a loss I sustained in his death; but, all o'er, I again joined the song and the dance as before.

The scene soon was changed, we could just number years, When my mother, my dear mother left me in tears; She died e're I'd come to the age of eighteen; How deep was my grief, how afflictive the scene.

To cheer, friends and relatives strove but in vain; From weeping incessant I scarce could refrain; The wound seemed too deep for this world e'er to heal; That I'd no hope in G.o.d, I was then brought to feel.

Repentance moved Jesus my sins to forgive; I could trust in his word, on his promises live; But I found no response, none to guide in the place; Those around had no faith in a change wrought by grace.

'Midst life's changing scenes, I most happily found A people who knew Heaven's own joyful sound; Our union and love then were truly divine, I'd the witness, and knew Heaven's blessings were mine.

I could then bless the Lord for this chastening rod; How far above earth's this enjoyment in G.o.d; The hight of earth's pleasures all dwindled away, In the light and the glory of this blessed day.

The Circle Broken.

This dear, lone room, a sacred place-- Here friends have met in love's embrace; Here, too, have died the loved and dear, The circle first was broken here.

The lonely hearth, the vacant chair, But tell the father is not there.

The only daughter, loved and true, Here bid earth's scenes a last adieu.

I love here to recall the past, And mourn o'er joys too bright to last.

In fancy's vision here I see Those forms so loved, so dear to me.

The Christian's Confidence.

We know that help on one is laid Who has his life a ransom paid; We know his blood can cleanse from sin, And make us clean and pure within.

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Poems by Rebekah Smith Part 17 summary

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