GOD'S CARE

With strength of righteous purpose in the heartWhat cause to fear for consequence of deed?God guideth then, not we; nor do we needTo care for aught but that we play our part.Most simple trust is often highest art.The issue we would fly may be a seedOrdained by God to bear our souls a meedOf peace that no self-judging could impart."All things work good for him who trusteth God!"Doth God not love us with a longing loveTo make us happy, and hath he not sightFrom end to end of our short earthly road?This, Lord, I hold—aye,knowthat thou wouldst moveThe world to lead one trusting soul aright.—Edward Harding.

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,knowthat thou wouldst move

The world to lead one trusting soul aright.

—Edward Harding.

———

How many chatterers of a creedThink doubt the gravest sin,Unmindful of her double birth—For worry is her twin.Ah! Christian atheism seemsThe most insulting kind,For, though the tongue says, God is love,The heart is deaf and blind.How he who marks the sparrow's fallMust be aggrieved to seeThese loud lip-champions manifestSuch infidelity!Each fretful line upon their brow,Dug by the plow of care,Is treason to their pledge of faithAnd 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 forsoothWho lives the falsity of doubt,But prates the cant of truth.—Frederic Lawrence Knowles.

How many chatterers of a creedThink doubt the gravest sin,Unmindful of her double birth—For worry is her twin.

How many chatterers of a creed

Think doubt the gravest sin,

Unmindful of her double birth—

For worry is her twin.

Ah! Christian atheism seemsThe most insulting kind,For, though the tongue says, God is love,The heart is deaf and blind.

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 fallMust be aggrieved to seeThese loud lip-champions manifestSuch infidelity!

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 faithAnd satire on their prayer.

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!

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 forsoothWho lives the falsity of doubt,But prates the cant of truth.

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 menThat 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 doorTo 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.

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.

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!

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.

———

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 knowIf I shall reach the goal at all—If I shall fall.Take thou my hand.Take it! Thou knowest bestHow I should go, and all the restI cannot, cannot see:Lead me: I hold my hands to thee;I own no will but thine;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 knowIf I shall reach the goal at all—If I shall fall.Take thou my hand.Take it! Thou knowest bestHow I should go, and all the restI cannot, cannot see:Lead me: I hold my hands to thee;I own no will but 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!

———

All as God wills, who wisely heedsTo give or to withhold;And knoweth more of all my needsThan all my prayers have told!Enough that blessings undeservedHave marked my erring track;That wheresoe'er my feet have swervedHis chastening turned me back;That more and more a ProvidenceOf love is understood,Making the springs of time and senseSweet with eternal good;That death seems but a covered wayWhich opens into light,Wherein no blinded child can strayBeyond the Father's sight.—John Greenleaf Whittier.

All as God wills, who wisely heedsTo give or to withhold;And knoweth more of all my needsThan all my prayers have told!

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 undeservedHave marked my erring track;That wheresoe'er my feet have swervedHis chastening turned me back;

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 ProvidenceOf love is understood,Making the springs of time and senseSweet with eternal good;

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 wayWhich opens into light,Wherein no blinded child can strayBeyond the Father's sight.

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 forMight 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.

What most you wish and long forMight only bring you pain;You cannot see the future,God's purpose to explain.

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.

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 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 fastThe doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth;Better be cheated to the lastThan lose the blessed hope of truth.—Frances Anne Kemble.

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.

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 fastThe doubting fiend o'ertakes our youth;Better be cheated to the lastThan lose the blessed hope of truth.

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-workWell in hand;Be trustful where thou canst notUnderstand;Thy lot, whate'er it be, isWisely planned;Whate'er its mysteries, God holds the key;Thou well canst trust him, and bide patiently.

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 drearyBut God can make it bright;And unto the soul that trusts himHe giveth songs in the night.There is never a path so hiddenBut God will show the way,If we seek the Spirit's guidanceAnd patiently watch and pray.

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 trustAround to-day;Fill the space with loving deeds,And therein stay.Look not through the sheltering barsUpon to-morrow;God will help thee bear what comesOf joy or sorrow.—Mary Frances Butts.

Build a little fence of trustAround to-day;Fill the space with loving deeds,And therein stay.Look not through the sheltering barsUpon to-morrow;God will help thee bear what comesOf joy or sorrow.

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.

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.

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.

———

Then, O my soul, be ne'er afraid;On him who thee and all things madeWith calm reliance rest;Whate'er may come, where'er we go,Our Father in the heavens must knowIn all things what is best.—Paul Fleming.

Then, O my soul, be ne'er afraid;On him who thee and all things madeWith calm reliance rest;Whate'er may come, where'er we go,Our Father in the heavens must knowIn all things what is best.

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 clingTo a spray a-swingIn the mad May wind, and sing and singAs if she'd burst for joy—Why cannot IContented lieIn his quiet arms, beneath his sky,Unmoved by life's annoy.—Robert Haven Schauffler.

If the wren can clingTo a spray a-swingIn the mad May wind, and sing and singAs if she'd burst for joy—

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 IContented lieIn his quiet arms, beneath his sky,Unmoved by life's annoy.

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 flightAwhile on boughs too slight,Feels them give way beneath her and yet sings—Knowing that she hath wings.—Victor Hugo.

Be like the bird that, halting in her flightAwhile on boughs too slight,Feels them give way beneath her and yet sings—Knowing that she hath wings.

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.

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.

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 runGod nothing does, or suffers to be done,But thou wouldst do the same if thou couldst seeThe end of all events as well as he.

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.

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.

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 wheatThey have all that they can eat;Reaping no more than they sowThey have more than they could stow;Having neither barn nor store,Hungry again they eat more.Considering, I see too that theyHave 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 enoughTo 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 findA 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 willWith 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 thereWith their feathers all astare;And in thine own sermon, thouThat 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 blessèd 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.

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 theyHave 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.

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 enoughTo 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 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 findA 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.

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 willWith driblets from his own still.

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 thereWith their feathers all astare;And in thine own sermon, thouThat the sparrow falls dost allow.

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 blessèd place,And a sharer in high grace.

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 blessèd place,

And a sharer in high grace.

It cometh therefore to this, Lord:I have considered thy word;And henceforth will be thy bird.

It cometh therefore to this, Lord:

I have considered thy word;

And henceforth will be thy bird.

—George Macdonald.

———

I do not know whether my future liesThrough 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 GodWill keep his own.Clouds may obscure the sky, and drenching rainWear channels deep;And haggard want, with all her bitter train,Make angels weep.And those I love the best, beneath the sodMay sleep alone;But through it all I shall be led, for GodWill keep his own.—Sarah Knowles Bolton.

I do not know whether my future liesThrough calm or storm;Whether the way is strewn with broken ties,Or friendships warm.

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 GodWill keep his own.

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 rainWear channels deep;And haggard want, with all her bitter train,Make angels weep.

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 sodMay sleep alone;But through it all I shall be led, for GodWill keep his own.

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! Let me not care!Too weak am I, dear Lord, to bearThe heavy burdens of the day;And oft I walk with craven feetUpon 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!

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! 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!

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!

———

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 purplePerhaps 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 knowethWhen 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 keepethThe life of the creatures he made.

I am only a little sparrow,A bird of low degree;My life is of little value,But the dear Lord cares for me.

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,

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 purplePerhaps it would make me vain.

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.

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."

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 knowethWhen one of us falls to the ground.

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 keepethThe life of the creatures he made.

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.

———

The twilight falls, the night is near,I fold my work awayAnd kneel to One who bends to hearThe story of the day.The old, old story, yet I kneelTo tell it at thy call;And cares grow lighter as I feelThat 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 treadThis path, since Jesus knows!And he has loved me! All my heartWith answering love is stirred,And every anguished pain and smartFinds 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!

The twilight falls, the night is near,I fold my work awayAnd kneel to One who bends to hearThe story of the day.

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 kneelTo tell it at thy call;And cares grow lighter as I feelThat Jesus knows them all.

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—

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 treadThis path, since Jesus knows!

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 heartWith answering love is stirred,And every anguished pain and smartFinds healing in the Word.

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!

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 reliefMy soul has fled by prayer,Why should I give way to griefOr heart-consuming care?While I know his providenceDisposes each eventShall 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?

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?

———

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 meAnd 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 meHis 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 facesOf 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!

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 meAnd never forgets me at all.

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 meHis angels would come to my aid.

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 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 facesOf mortals that call on his name.

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!

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!

———

O I know the Hand that is guiding meThrough the shadow to the light;And I know that all betiding meIs meted out aright.I know that the thorny path I treadIs ruled with a golden line;And I know that the darker life's tangled threadThe 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 dropOn 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 overflowThe 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 meWill ever hold me fast;And the strength of the arms that are folding meWill keep me to the last.

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 dropOn 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.

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 overflowThe 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 meWill ever hold me fast;And the strength of the arms that are folding meWill keep me to the last.

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.

———

As God leads me will I go,Nor choose my way.Let him choose the joy or woeOf 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 stillWithin his hand;Though his purpose my self-willDoth oft withstand;Yet I wish that noneBut his will be doneTill the end be wonThat he hath planned.As God leads I am content;He will take care!All things by his will are sentThat 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 mineTo follow him;Soon all shall wonderfully shineWhich now seems dim.Fulfilled be his decree!What he shall choose for meThat shall my portion be,Up to the brim!As God leads me so my heartIn faith shall rest.No grief nor fear my soul shall partFrom Jesus' breast.In sweet belief I knowWhat way my life doth go—Since God permitteth so—That must be best.—L. Gedicke.

As God leads me will I go,Nor choose my way.Let him choose the joy or woeOf every day;They cannot hurt my soul,Because in his control;I leave to him the whole—His children may.

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 stillWithin his hand;Though his purpose my self-willDoth oft withstand;Yet I wish that noneBut his will be doneTill the end be wonThat he hath planned.

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 sentThat 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 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 mineTo follow him;Soon all shall wonderfully shineWhich now seems dim.Fulfilled be his decree!What he shall choose for meThat shall my portion be,Up to the brim!

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 heartIn faith shall rest.No grief nor fear my soul shall partFrom Jesus' breast.In sweet belief I knowWhat way my life doth go—Since God permitteth so—That must be best.

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.

———

There are two words of light divineThat 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 givenThis 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.

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 givenThis loving message, fresh from heaven: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.

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.

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.

———

Don't you trouble troubleTill 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 sorrowWill find that sorrow's there.Don't you hurry worryBy worrying lest it come.To flurry is to worry,'Twill miss you if you're mum.If care you've got to carryWait till 'tis at the door;For he who runs to meet itTakes 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 forsakenThe Heavenly Father's side;What he hath undertakenHe surely will provide.The very birds reprove theeWith all their happy song;The very flowers teach theeThat 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 arrayedThe 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.

Don't you trouble troubleTill trouble troubles you.Don't you look for trouble;Let trouble look for you.

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 sorrowWill find that sorrow's there.

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 worryBy worrying lest it come.To flurry is to worry,'Twill miss you if you're mum.

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 carryWait till 'tis at the door;For he who runs to meet itTakes up the load before.

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.

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 forsakenThe Heavenly Father's side;What he hath undertakenHe surely will provide.

Who feareth hath forsaken

The Heavenly Father's side;

What he hath undertaken

He surely will provide.

The very birds reprove theeWith all their happy song;The very flowers teach theeThat fretting is a wrong.

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!"

"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 arrayedThe buttercup and daisy,How canst thou be afraid?"

"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.

Then don't you trouble trouble,

Till trouble troubles you;

You'll only double trouble,

And trouble others too.

———

He leads us onBy 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 goneWe 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 mazeOf sin, of sorrow, and o'erclouded daysWe 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.

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 mazeOf sin, of sorrow, and o'erclouded daysWe know his will is done;And still 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.

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.

———

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 thenLighted histhumb; 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 sinChanged to his proper form, and with a grinSaid, "I will quench it in the martyrs' bloodYour book will cause to flow—a crimson flood!"Triumphantly the fiend returned to hellAnd 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.

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 histhumb; 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 hellAnd 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."

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.

———

We all acknowledge both thy power and loveTo 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 thycommandor thypermissionLay 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 appearAnd be disposed and dressed and tuned by thee,Who sweetly temperest all. If we could hearThy 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.

We all acknowledge both thy power and loveTo be exact, transcendent, and divine;Who dost so strongly and so sweetly move,While all things have their will, yet none but thine,

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 thycommandor thypermissionLay 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.

For either thycommandor thypermission

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 appearAnd be disposed and dressed and tuned by thee,Who sweetly temperest all. If we could hearThy skill and art what music would it be!

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.

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.

———

God moves in a mysterious wayHis wonders to perform;He plants his footsteps in the seaAnd rides upon the storm.Deep in unfathomable minesOf never-failing skill,He treasures up his bright designsAnd works his sovereign will.Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take:The clouds ye so much dreadAre big with mercy, and shall breakIn blessings on your head.Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,But trust him for his grace;Behind a frowning providenceHe 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.

God moves in a mysterious wayHis wonders to perform;He plants his footsteps in the seaAnd rides upon the storm.

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 minesOf never-failing skill,He treasures up his bright designsAnd works his sovereign will.

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 dreadAre big with mercy, and shall breakIn blessings on your head.

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 providenceHe hides a smiling face.

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.

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.

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.

———

Our yet unfinished storyIs tending all to this:To God the greatest glory,To us the greatest bliss.If all things work togetherFor ends so grand and blest,What need to wonder whetherEach in itself is best!If some things were omitted,Or altered as we would,The whole might be unfittedTo 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 FriendIs 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 humbleIs not lost time at all.What though we fondly reckonedA smoother way to goThan where his hand hath beckoned?It will be better so.What only seemed a barrierA stepping-stone shall be;Our God is no long tarrier,A present help is he.And when amid our blindnessHis disappointments fall,We trust his loving-kindnessWhose wisdom sends them all;The discord that involvethSome startling change of key,The Master's hand revolvethIn richest harmony.Then tremble not, and shrink not,When disappointment nears;Be trustful still, and think notTo realize all fears.While we are meekly kneelingWe shall behold her rise,Our Father's love revealing,An angel in disguise.—Frances Ridley Havergal.

Our yet unfinished storyIs tending all to this:To God the greatest glory,To us the greatest bliss.

Our yet unfinished story

Is tending all to this:

To God the greatest glory,

To us the greatest bliss.

If all things work togetherFor ends so grand and blest,What need to wonder whetherEach in itself is best!

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 unfittedTo work for perfect good.

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.

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 FriendIs always watching o'er us,And knows the very end.

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 humbleIs not lost time at all.

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 reckonedA smoother way to goThan where his hand hath beckoned?It will be better so.

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 barrierA stepping-stone shall be;Our God is no long tarrier,A present help is he.

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 blindnessHis disappointments fall,We trust his loving-kindnessWhose wisdom sends them all;

And when amid our blindness

His disappointments fall,

We trust his loving-kindness

Whose wisdom sends them all;

The discord that involvethSome startling change of key,The Master's hand revolvethIn richest harmony.

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 notTo realize all fears.

Then tremble not, and shrink not,

When disappointment nears;

Be trustful still, and think not

To realize all fears.

While we are meekly kneelingWe shall behold her rise,Our Father's love revealing,An angel in disguise.

While we are meekly kneeling

We shall behold her rise,

Our Father's love revealing,

An angel in disguise.

—Frances Ridley Havergal.

———

Not a brooklet flowethOnward to the sea,Not a sunbeam glowethOn its bosom free,Not a seed unfoldethTo the glorious air,But our Father holdethIt 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 gladnessGod doth fail to see;Think not in thy sadnessHe 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 weighedIn the changeless balanceWisest Love has made.Power eternal restethIn his changeless hand;Love immortal hastethSwift at his command,Faith can firmly trust himIn the darkest hour,For the keys she holdethTo his love and power.

Not a brooklet flowethOnward to the sea,Not a sunbeam glowethOn its bosom free,Not a seed unfoldethTo the glorious air,But our Father holdethIt within his 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 gladnessGod doth fail to see;Think not in thy sadnessHe forgetteth thee.

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 weighedIn the changeless balanceWisest Love has made.

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 restethIn his changeless hand;Love immortal hastethSwift at his command,Faith can firmly trust himIn the darkest hour,For the keys she holdethTo his love and power.

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.

———

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; butin? The world is full;A grand omnipotence must rule;But is there life that doth abideWith 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 hisWhere he hath put and keepeth you,God hath no other thing to do.—Adeline Dutton Train Whitney.

Among so many can he care?Can special love be everywhere?A myriad homes—a myriad ways—And God's eye over every place?

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; butin? The world is full;A grand omnipotence must rule;But is there life that doth abideWith mine own, loving, side by side?

Over; butin? 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?

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 hisWhere he hath put and keepeth you,God hath no other thing to do.

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.

———

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 eyeHis saints securely dwell;That hand which bears all nature upShall guard his children well.Why should this anxious loadPress down your weary mind?Haste to your heavenly Father's throneAnd 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.

How gentle God's commands!How kind his precepts are!Come, cast your burdens on the Lord,And trust his 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 eyeHis saints securely dwell;That hand which bears all nature upShall guard his children well.

Beneath his watchful eye

His saints securely dwell;

That hand which bears all nature up

Shall guard his children well.

Why should this anxious loadPress down your weary mind?Haste to your heavenly Father's throneAnd sweet refreshment find.

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.

His goodness stands approved,

Unchanged from day to day;

I'll drop my burden at his feet,

And bear a song away.

—Philip Doddridge.

———

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