Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul Part 30 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
MY SERVICE
I asked the Lord to let me do Some mighty work for Him; To fight amid His battle hosts, Then sing the victor's hymn.
I longed my ardent love to show, But Jesus would not have it so.
He placed me in a quiet home, Whose life was calm and still, And gave me little things to do, My daily round to fill; I could not think it good to be Just put aside so silently.
Small duties gathered round my way, They seemed of earth alone; I, who had longed for conquests bright To lay before His throne, Had common things to do and bear, To watch and strive with daily care.
So then I thought my prayer unheard, And asked the Lord once more That He would give me work for Him And open wide the door; Forgetting that my Master knew Just what was best for me to do.
Then quietly the answer came, "My child, I hear thy cry; Think not that mighty deeds alone Will bring the victory.
The battle has been planned by Me, Let daily life thy conquests see."
Pa.s.s IT ON
Have you had a kindness shown?
Pa.s.s it on.
It was not given to you alone, Pa.s.s it on.
Let it travel through the years; Let it wipe another's tears; Till in heaven the deed appears, Pa.s.s it on.
Have you found the heavenly light?
Pa.s.s it on.
Souls are groping in the night, Daylight gone.
Lift your lighted lamp on high, Be a star in some one's sky, He may live who else would die.
Pa.s.s it on.
GIVING AND TAKING
Who gives, and hides the giving hand, Nor counts on favor, fame, or praise, Shall find his smallest gift outweighs The burden of the sea and land.
Who gives to whom hath naught been given, His gift in need, though small indeed As is the gra.s.s-blade's wind-blown seed, Is large as earth and rich as heaven.
--John Greenleaf Whittier, from Tinnevaluna of India.
ONE PATH TO LIGHT
What is the world? A wandering maze, Where sin hath tracked a thousand ways Her victims to ensnare.
All broad and winding and aslope, All tempting with perfidious hope, All ending in despair.
Millions of pilgrims throng those roads, Bearing their baubles or their loads Down to eternal night.
One only path that never bends, Narrow and rough and steep, ascends Through darkness into light.
Is there no guide to show that path?
The Bible. He alone that hath The Bible need not stray.
But he who hath and will not give That light of life to all that live, Himself shall lose the way.
IF WE COULD ONLY SEE
It were not hard, we think, to serve Him If we could only see!
If he would stand with that gaze intense Burning into our bodily sense, If we might look on that face most tender, The brows where the scars are turned to splendor, Might catch the light of his smile so sweet, And view the marks on his hands and feet, How loyal we should be!
It were not hard, we think, to serve him, If we could only see!
It were not hard, he says, to see him, If we would only serve; "He that doeth the will of Heaven, To him shall knowledge and sight be given."
While for his presence we sit repining, Never we see his countenance s.h.i.+ning; They who toil where his reapers be The glow of his smile may always see, And their faith can never swerve.
It were not hard, he says, to see him, If we would only serve.
Think not in sleep to fold thy hands, Forgetful of thy Lord's commands, From Duty's claims no life is free, Behold! To-day has need of thee.
WHEN YOU DO AN ACT
You can never tell when you do an act Just what the result will be; But with every deed you are sowing a seed, Though its harvest you may not see.
Each kindly act is an acorn dropped In G.o.d's productive soil; Though you may not know, yet the tree shall grow And shelter the brows that toil.
YOUR MISSION
If you cannot on the ocean Sail among the swiftest fleet, Rocking on the highest billows, Laughing at the storms you meet; You can stand among the sailors Anch.o.r.ed yet within the bay; You can lend a hand to help them As they launch their boat away.
If you are too weak to journey Up the mountain steep and high, You can stand within the valley While the mult.i.tudes go by; You can chant in happy measure As they slowly pa.s.s along; Though they may forget the singer They will not forget the song.
If you have not gold and silver Ever ready to command; If you cannot toward the needy, Reach an ever-open hand; You can visit the afflicted, O'er the erring you can weep; You can be a true disciple Sitting at the Saviour's feet.
If you cannot in the harvest Garner up the richest sheaves, Many a grain both ripe and golden Will the careless reapers leave; Go and glean among the briers Growing rank against the wall, For it may be that their shadow Hides the heaviest wheat of all.
If you cannot in the conflict Prove yourself a soldier true, If where fire and smoke are thickest There's no work for you to do; When the battle-field is silent You can go with careful tread: You can bear away the wounded, You can cover up the dead.
If you cannot be the watchman, Standing high on Zion's wall, Pointing out the path to heaven, Offering life and peace to all; With your prayers and with your bounties You can do what Heaven demands, You can be like faithful Aaron, Holding up the prophet's hands.
Do not, then, stand idly waiting For some greater work to do; Fortune is a lazy G.o.ddess-- She will never come to you.
Go and toil in any vineyard, Do not fear to do or dare; If you want a field of labor You can find it anywhere.
--G. M. Grannis.
THE FAITHFUL MONK
Golden gleams of noonday fell On the pavement of the cell, And the monk still lingered there In the ecstasy of prayer; Fuller floods of glory streamed Through the window, and it seemed Like an answering glow of love From the countenance above.
On the silence of the cell Break the faint tones of a bell.
'Tis the hour when at the gate Crowds of poor and hungry wait, Wan and wistful, to be fed With the friar of mercy's bread.
Hark! that chime of heaven's far bells!
On the monk's rapt ear it swells, No! fond, flattering dream, away!
Mercy calls; no longer stay!
Whom thou yearnest here to find In the musings of thy mind, G.o.d and Jesus, lo, they wait Knocking at thy convent gate!