JOY

God answers prayer—Answers always, everywhere,I may cast my anxious care,Burdens I could never bear,On the God who heareth prayer.

God answers prayer—

Answers always, everywhere,

I may cast my anxious care,

Burdens I could never bear,

On the God who heareth prayer.

———

The camel, at the close of dayKneels down upon the sandy plainTo have his burden lifted offAnd rest again.My soul, thou too should to thy kneesWhen daylight draweth to a close,And let thy Master lift the loadAnd grant repose.Else how couldst thou to-morrow meet,With all to-morrow's work to do,If thou thy burden all the nightDost carry through?The camel kneels at break of dayTo have his guide replace his load;Then rises up anew to takeThe desert road.So thou shouldst kneel at morning's dawnThat God may give thee daily care;Assured that he no load too greatWill make thee bear.

The camel, at the close of dayKneels down upon the sandy plainTo have his burden lifted offAnd rest again.

The camel, at the close of day

Kneels down upon the sandy plain

To have his burden lifted off

And rest again.

My soul, thou too should to thy kneesWhen daylight draweth to a close,And let thy Master lift the loadAnd grant repose.

My soul, thou too should to thy knees

When daylight draweth to a close,

And let thy Master lift the load

And grant repose.

Else how couldst thou to-morrow meet,With all to-morrow's work to do,If thou thy burden all the nightDost carry through?

Else how couldst thou to-morrow meet,

With all to-morrow's work to do,

If thou thy burden all the night

Dost carry through?

The camel kneels at break of dayTo have his guide replace his load;Then rises up anew to takeThe desert road.

The camel kneels at break of day

To have his guide replace his load;

Then rises up anew to take

The desert road.

So thou shouldst kneel at morning's dawnThat God may give thee daily care;Assured that he no load too greatWill make thee bear.

So thou shouldst kneel at morning's dawn

That God may give thee daily care;

Assured that he no load too great

Will make thee bear.

———

Take time to be holy;Speak oft with thy Lord;Abide in him always,And feed on his word;Make friends of God's children,Help those who are weak,Forgetting in nothingHis blessing to seek.Take time to be holy;The world rushes on;Spend much time in secretWith Jesus alone;By looking at JesusLike him thou shalt be;Thy friends in thy conductHis likeness shall see.Take time to be holy;Let him be thy Guide,And run not before himWhatever betide;In joy or in sorrowStill follow thy Lord,And, looking to Jesus,Still trust in his word.Take time to be holy;Be calm in thy soul;Each thought and each motiveBeneath his control;Thus led by his SpiritTo fountains of love,Thou soon shalt be fittedFor service above.—W. D. Longstaff.

Take time to be holy;Speak oft with thy Lord;Abide in him always,And feed on his word;Make friends of God's children,Help those who are weak,Forgetting in nothingHis blessing to seek.

Take time to be holy;

Speak oft with thy Lord;

Abide in him always,

And feed on his word;

Make friends of God's children,

Help those who are weak,

Forgetting in nothing

His blessing to seek.

Take time to be holy;The world rushes on;Spend much time in secretWith Jesus alone;By looking at JesusLike him thou shalt be;Thy friends in thy conductHis likeness shall see.

Take time to be holy;

The world rushes on;

Spend much time in secret

With Jesus alone;

By looking at Jesus

Like him thou shalt be;

Thy friends in thy conduct

His likeness shall see.

Take time to be holy;Let him be thy Guide,And run not before himWhatever betide;In joy or in sorrowStill follow thy Lord,And, looking to Jesus,Still trust in his word.

Take time to be holy;

Let him be thy Guide,

And run not before him

Whatever betide;

In joy or in sorrow

Still follow thy Lord,

And, looking to Jesus,

Still trust in his word.

Take time to be holy;Be calm in thy soul;Each thought and each motiveBeneath his control;Thus led by his SpiritTo fountains of love,Thou soon shalt be fittedFor service above.

Take time to be holy;

Be calm in thy soul;

Each thought and each motive

Beneath his control;

Thus led by his Spirit

To fountains of love,

Thou soon shalt be fitted

For service above.

—W. D. Longstaff.

———

Father, before thy footstool kneeling,Once more my heart goes up to thee,For aid, for strength, to thee appealing,Thou who alone canst succor me.Hear me! for heart and flesh are failing,My spirit yielding in the strife;And anguish wild as unavailingSweeps in a flood across my life.Help me to stem the tide of sorrow;Help me to bear thy chastening rod;Give me endurance; let me borrowStrength from thy promise, O my God!Not mine the grief which words may lighten;Not mine the tears of common woes;The pang with which my heart-strings tightenOnly the All-seeing One may know.And I am weak, my feeble spiritShrinks from life's task in wild dismay;Yet not that thou that task wouldst spare it,My Father, do I dare to pray.Into my soul thy might infusing,Strengthening my spirit by thine own;Help me, all other aid refusing,To cling to thee, and thee alone.And O in my exceeding weaknessMake thy strength perfect; thou art strong:Aid me to do thy will with meekness,Thou to whom all my powers belong.O let me feel that thou art near me;Close to thy side, I shall not fear;Hear me, O Strength of Israel, hear me,Sustain and aid! in mercy hear.

Father, before thy footstool kneeling,Once more my heart goes up to thee,For aid, for strength, to thee appealing,Thou who alone canst succor me.

Father, before thy footstool kneeling,

Once more my heart goes up to thee,

For aid, for strength, to thee appealing,

Thou who alone canst succor me.

Hear me! for heart and flesh are failing,My spirit yielding in the strife;And anguish wild as unavailingSweeps in a flood across my life.

Hear me! for heart and flesh are failing,

My spirit yielding in the strife;

And anguish wild as unavailing

Sweeps in a flood across my life.

Help me to stem the tide of sorrow;Help me to bear thy chastening rod;Give me endurance; let me borrowStrength from thy promise, O my God!

Help me to stem the tide of sorrow;

Help me to bear thy chastening rod;

Give me endurance; let me borrow

Strength from thy promise, O my God!

Not mine the grief which words may lighten;Not mine the tears of common woes;The pang with which my heart-strings tightenOnly the All-seeing One may know.

Not mine the grief which words may lighten;

Not mine the tears of common woes;

The pang with which my heart-strings tighten

Only the All-seeing One may know.

And I am weak, my feeble spiritShrinks from life's task in wild dismay;Yet not that thou that task wouldst spare it,My Father, do I dare to pray.

And I am weak, my feeble spirit

Shrinks from life's task in wild dismay;

Yet not that thou that task wouldst spare it,

My Father, do I dare to pray.

Into my soul thy might infusing,Strengthening my spirit by thine own;Help me, all other aid refusing,To cling to thee, and thee alone.

Into my soul thy might infusing,

Strengthening my spirit by thine own;

Help me, all other aid refusing,

To cling to thee, and thee alone.

And O in my exceeding weaknessMake thy strength perfect; thou art strong:Aid me to do thy will with meekness,Thou to whom all my powers belong.

And O in my exceeding weakness

Make thy strength perfect; thou art strong:

Aid me to do thy will with meekness,

Thou to whom all my powers belong.

O let me feel that thou art near me;Close to thy side, I shall not fear;Hear me, O Strength of Israel, hear me,Sustain and aid! in mercy hear.

O let me feel that thou art near me;

Close to thy side, I shall not fear;

Hear me, O Strength of Israel, hear me,

Sustain and aid! in mercy hear.

———

Lord, send thy light,Not only in the darkest night,But in the shadowy, dim twilight,Wherein my strained and aching sightCan scarce distinguish wrong from right,Then send thy light.Teach me to pray.Not only in the morning gray,Or when the moonbeam's silver rayFalls on me, but at high noonday,When pleasure beckons me away,Teach me to pray.—Constance Milman.

Lord, send thy light,Not only in the darkest night,But in the shadowy, dim twilight,Wherein my strained and aching sightCan scarce distinguish wrong from right,Then send thy light.

Lord, send thy light,

Not only in the darkest night,

But in the shadowy, dim twilight,

Wherein my strained and aching sight

Can scarce distinguish wrong from right,

Then send thy light.

Teach me to pray.Not only in the morning gray,Or when the moonbeam's silver rayFalls on me, but at high noonday,When pleasure beckons me away,Teach me to pray.

Teach me to pray.

Not only in the morning gray,

Or when the moonbeam's silver ray

Falls on me, but at high noonday,

When pleasure beckons me away,

Teach me to pray.

—Constance Milman.

———

The little sharp vexationsAnd the briars that cut the feet,Why not take all to the HelperWho has never failed us yet?Tell him about the heartache,And tell him the longings too,Tell him the baffled purposeWhen we scarce know what to do.Then, leaving all our weaknessWith the One divinely strong,Forget that we bore the burdenAnd carry away the song.—Phillips Brooks.

The little sharp vexations

And the briars that cut the feet,

Why not take all to the Helper

Who has never failed us yet?

Tell him about the heartache,

And tell him the longings too,

Tell him the baffled purpose

When we scarce know what to do.

Then, leaving all our weakness

With the One divinely strong,

Forget that we bore the burden

And carry away the song.

—Phillips Brooks.

———

My proud foe at my hands to take no boon will choose.Thy prayers are that one gift which he cannot refuse.—Richard Chenevix Trench.

My proud foe at my hands to take no boon will choose.Thy prayers are that one gift which he cannot refuse.

My proud foe at my hands to take no boon will choose.

Thy prayers are that one gift which he cannot refuse.

—Richard Chenevix Trench.

———

Man's plea to man is, that he nevermoreWill beg, and that he never begged before;Man's plea to God is, that he did obtainA former suit, and therefore sues again.How good a God we serve, that, when we sue,Makes his old gifts examples of his new.—Francis Quarles.

Man's plea to man is, that he nevermore

Will beg, and that he never begged before;

Man's plea to God is, that he did obtain

A former suit, and therefore sues again.

How good a God we serve, that, when we sue,

Makes his old gifts examples of his new.

—Francis Quarles.

———

Grant me, O God, thy merciful protection;And, in protection, give me strength, I pray;And, in my strength, O grant me wise discretion;And, in discretion, make me ever just;And, with my justice, may I mingle love,And, with my love, O God, the love of thee;And, with the love of thee, the love of all.—From the Welsh.

Grant me, O God, thy merciful protection;

And, in protection, give me strength, I pray;

And, in my strength, O grant me wise discretion;

And, in discretion, make me ever just;

And, with my justice, may I mingle love,

And, with my love, O God, the love of thee;

And, with the love of thee, the love of all.

—From the Welsh.

———

O sad estateOf human wretchedness! so weak is man,So ignorant and blind, that did not GodSometimes withhold in mercy what we ask,We should be ruined at our own request.—Hannah More.

O sad estateOf human wretchedness! so weak is man,So ignorant and blind, that did not GodSometimes withhold in mercy what we ask,We should be ruined at our own request.

O sad estate

Of human wretchedness! so weak is man,

So ignorant and blind, that did not God

Sometimes withhold in mercy what we ask,

We should be ruined at our own request.

—Hannah More.

———

Why win we not at once what we in prayer require?That we may learn great things as greatly to desire.—Richard Chenevix Trench.

Why win we not at once what we in prayer require?That we may learn great things as greatly to desire.

Why win we not at once what we in prayer require?

That we may learn great things as greatly to desire.

—Richard Chenevix Trench.

Just to let thy Father doWhat he will;Just to know that he is trueAnd be still.Just to follow hour by hourAs He leadeth;Just to draw the moment's powerAs it needeth.Just to trust Him, this is all!Then the day will surely bePeaceful, whatsoe'er befall,Bright and blessèd, calm and free.Just to let Him speak to theeThrough his word,Watching that his voice may beClearly heard.Just to tell Him every thingAs it rises,And at once to him to bringAll surprises.Just to listen, and to stayWhere you cannot miss His voice,This is all! and thus to-day,Communing, you shall rejoice.Just to ask Him what to doAll the day,And to make you quick and trueTo obey.Just to know the needed graceHe bestoweth,Every bar of time and placeOverfloweth.Just to take thy orders straightFrom the Master's own command.Blessèd day! when thus we waitAlways at our Sovereign's hand.Just to recollect his love,Always true;Always shining from above,Always new.Just to recognize its light,All-enfolding;Just to claim its present might,All-upholding.Just to know it as thine own,That no power can take away;Is not this enough aloneFor the gladness of the day?Just to trust, and yet to askGuidance still;Take the training or the taskAs He will.Just to take the joy or painAs He lends it;Just to take the loss or gainAs he sends itHe who formed thee for his praiseWill not miss the gracious aim;So to-day, and all thy days,Shall be molded for the same.Just to leave in His dear handLittlethings;All we cannot understand,All that stings.Just to let Him take the careSorely pressing,Finding all we let him bearChanged to blessing.This is all! and yet the wayMarked by Him who loves thee best;Secret of a happy day,Secret of his promised rest.—Frances Ridley Havergal.

Just to let thy Father do

What he will;

Just to know that he is true

And be still.

Just to follow hour by hour

As He leadeth;

Just to draw the moment's power

As it needeth.

Just to trust Him, this is all!

Then the day will surely be

Peaceful, whatsoe'er befall,

Bright and blessèd, calm and free.

Just to let Him speak to theeThrough his word,Watching that his voice may beClearly heard.Just to tell Him every thingAs it rises,And at once to him to bringAll surprises.Just to listen, and to stayWhere you cannot miss His voice,This is all! and thus to-day,Communing, you shall rejoice.

Just to let Him speak to thee

Through his word,

Watching that his voice may be

Clearly heard.

Just to tell Him every thing

As it rises,

And at once to him to bring

All surprises.

Just to listen, and to stay

Where you cannot miss His voice,

This is all! and thus to-day,

Communing, you shall rejoice.

Just to ask Him what to doAll the day,And to make you quick and trueTo obey.Just to know the needed graceHe bestoweth,Every bar of time and placeOverfloweth.Just to take thy orders straightFrom the Master's own command.Blessèd day! when thus we waitAlways at our Sovereign's hand.

Just to ask Him what to do

All the day,

And to make you quick and true

To obey.

Just to know the needed grace

He bestoweth,

Every bar of time and place

Overfloweth.

Just to take thy orders straight

From the Master's own command.

Blessèd day! when thus we wait

Always at our Sovereign's hand.

Just to recollect his love,Always true;Always shining from above,Always new.Just to recognize its light,All-enfolding;Just to claim its present might,All-upholding.Just to know it as thine own,That no power can take away;Is not this enough aloneFor the gladness of the day?

Just to recollect his love,

Always true;

Always shining from above,

Always new.

Just to recognize its light,

All-enfolding;

Just to claim its present might,

All-upholding.

Just to know it as thine own,

That no power can take away;

Is not this enough alone

For the gladness of the day?

Just to trust, and yet to askGuidance still;Take the training or the taskAs He will.Just to take the joy or painAs He lends it;Just to take the loss or gainAs he sends itHe who formed thee for his praiseWill not miss the gracious aim;So to-day, and all thy days,Shall be molded for the same.

Just to trust, and yet to ask

Guidance still;

Take the training or the task

As He will.

Just to take the joy or pain

As He lends it;

Just to take the loss or gain

As he sends it

He who formed thee for his praise

Will not miss the gracious aim;

So to-day, and all thy days,

Shall be molded for the same.

Just to leave in His dear handLittlethings;All we cannot understand,All that stings.Just to let Him take the careSorely pressing,Finding all we let him bearChanged to blessing.This is all! and yet the wayMarked by Him who loves thee best;Secret of a happy day,Secret of his promised rest.

Just to leave in His dear hand

Littlethings;

All we cannot understand,

All that stings.

Just to let Him take the care

Sorely pressing,

Finding all we let him bear

Changed to blessing.

This is all! and yet the way

Marked by Him who loves thee best;

Secret of a happy day,

Secret of his promised rest.

—Frances Ridley Havergal.

———

God means us to be happy;He fills the short-lived yearsWith loving, tender mercies—With smiles as well as tears.Flowers blossom by the pathway,Or, withering, they shedTheir sweetest fragrance overThe bosoms of our dead.God filled the earth with beauty;He touched the hills with light;He crowned the waving forestWith living verdure bright;He taught the bird its carol,He gave the wind its voice,And to the smallest insectIts moment to rejoice.What life hath not its blessing?Who hath not songs to sing,Or grateful words to utter,Or wealth of love to bring?Tried in affliction's furnaceThe gold becomes more pure—So strong doth sorrow make us,So patient to endure.No way is dark and drearyIf God be with us there;No danger can befall usWhen sheltered by his care.Why should our eyes be blindedTo all earth's glorious bloom?Why sit we in the shadowThat falls upon the tomb?Look up and catch the sunbeams!See how the day doth dawn!Gather the scented rosesThat grow beside the thorn!God's pitying love doth seek us;He leads us to his rest;And from a thousand pathwaysHe chooses what is best.

God means us to be happy;

He fills the short-lived years

With loving, tender mercies—

With smiles as well as tears.

Flowers blossom by the pathway,

Or, withering, they shed

Their sweetest fragrance over

The bosoms of our dead.

God filled the earth with beauty;He touched the hills with light;He crowned the waving forestWith living verdure bright;He taught the bird its carol,He gave the wind its voice,And to the smallest insectIts moment to rejoice.

God filled the earth with beauty;

He touched the hills with light;

He crowned the waving forest

With living verdure bright;

He taught the bird its carol,

He gave the wind its voice,

And to the smallest insect

Its moment to rejoice.

What life hath not its blessing?Who hath not songs to sing,Or grateful words to utter,Or wealth of love to bring?Tried in affliction's furnaceThe gold becomes more pure—So strong doth sorrow make us,So patient to endure.

What life hath not its blessing?

Who hath not songs to sing,

Or grateful words to utter,

Or wealth of love to bring?

Tried in affliction's furnace

The gold becomes more pure—

So strong doth sorrow make us,

So patient to endure.

No way is dark and drearyIf God be with us there;No danger can befall usWhen sheltered by his care.Why should our eyes be blindedTo all earth's glorious bloom?Why sit we in the shadowThat falls upon the tomb?

No way is dark and dreary

If God be with us there;

No danger can befall us

When sheltered by his care.

Why should our eyes be blinded

To all earth's glorious bloom?

Why sit we in the shadow

That falls upon the tomb?

Look up and catch the sunbeams!See how the day doth dawn!Gather the scented rosesThat grow beside the thorn!God's pitying love doth seek us;He leads us to his rest;And from a thousand pathwaysHe chooses what is best.

Look up and catch the sunbeams!

See how the day doth dawn!

Gather the scented roses

That grow beside the thorn!

God's pitying love doth seek us;

He leads us to his rest;

And from a thousand pathways

He chooses what is best.

———

How blest is he, though ever crossed,That can all crosses blessings make;That finds himself ere he be lost,And lose that found for virtue's sake.Yea, blest is he, in life and death,That fears not death nor loves this life;That sets his will his wit beneath;And hath continual peace in strife.That naught observes but what preservesHis mind and body from offense;That neither courts nor seasons serves,And learns without experience.That loves his body for his soul,Soul for his mind, his mind for God,God for himself, and doth controlContent, if it with him be odd.That rests in action, acting naughtBut what is good in deed and show;That seeks but God within his thought,And thinks but God to love and know.That lives too low for envy's looks,And yet too high for loathed contempt;That makes his friends good men and booksAnd naught without them doth attempt.That ever lives a light to all,Though oft obscurèd like the sun;And, though his fortunes be but small,Yet Fortune doth not seek nor shun.That never looks but grace to find,Nor seeks for knowledge to be known;That makes a kingdom of his mind,Wherein, with God, he reigns alone.This man is great with little state,Lord of the world epitomized,Who with staid front outfaceth FateAnd, being empty, is sufficed—Or is sufficed with little, since (at least)He makes his conscience a continual feast.—John Davies, of Hereford.

How blest is he, though ever crossed,That can all crosses blessings make;That finds himself ere he be lost,And lose that found for virtue's sake.

How blest is he, though ever crossed,

That can all crosses blessings make;

That finds himself ere he be lost,

And lose that found for virtue's sake.

Yea, blest is he, in life and death,That fears not death nor loves this life;That sets his will his wit beneath;And hath continual peace in strife.

Yea, blest is he, in life and death,

That fears not death nor loves this life;

That sets his will his wit beneath;

And hath continual peace in strife.

That naught observes but what preservesHis mind and body from offense;That neither courts nor seasons serves,And learns without experience.

That naught observes but what preserves

His mind and body from offense;

That neither courts nor seasons serves,

And learns without experience.

That loves his body for his soul,Soul for his mind, his mind for God,God for himself, and doth controlContent, if it with him be odd.

That loves his body for his soul,

Soul for his mind, his mind for God,

God for himself, and doth control

Content, if it with him be odd.

That rests in action, acting naughtBut what is good in deed and show;That seeks but God within his thought,And thinks but God to love and know.

That rests in action, acting naught

But what is good in deed and show;

That seeks but God within his thought,

And thinks but God to love and know.

That lives too low for envy's looks,And yet too high for loathed contempt;That makes his friends good men and booksAnd naught without them doth attempt.

That lives too low for envy's looks,

And yet too high for loathed contempt;

That makes his friends good men and books

And naught without them doth attempt.

That ever lives a light to all,Though oft obscurèd like the sun;And, though his fortunes be but small,Yet Fortune doth not seek nor shun.

That ever lives a light to all,

Though oft obscurèd like the sun;

And, though his fortunes be but small,

Yet Fortune doth not seek nor shun.

That never looks but grace to find,Nor seeks for knowledge to be known;That makes a kingdom of his mind,Wherein, with God, he reigns alone.

That never looks but grace to find,

Nor seeks for knowledge to be known;

That makes a kingdom of his mind,

Wherein, with God, he reigns alone.

This man is great with little state,Lord of the world epitomized,Who with staid front outfaceth FateAnd, being empty, is sufficed—Or is sufficed with little, since (at least)He makes his conscience a continual feast.

This man is great with little state,

Lord of the world epitomized,

Who with staid front outfaceth Fate

And, being empty, is sufficed—

Or is sufficed with little, since (at least)

He makes his conscience a continual feast.

—John Davies, of Hereford.

———

My God, I thank thee who hast madeThe earth so bright;So full of splendor and of joy,Beauty and light;So many glorious things are here,Noble and right.I thank thee, too, that thou hast madeJoy to abound;So many gentle thoughts and deedsCircling us round;That in the darkest spot of earthSome love is found.I thank thee more that all our joyIs touched with pain;That shadows fall on brightest hours;That thorns remain;So that earth's bliss may be our guideAnd not our chain.I thank thee, Lord, that thou hast keptThe best in store;We have enough, yet not too much,To long for more;A yearning for a deeper peaceNot known before.I thank thee, Lord, that here our soulsThough amply blest,Can never find, although they seek,A perfect rest;Nor ever shall until they leanOn Jesus' breast.—Adelaide Anne Procter.

My God, I thank thee who hast madeThe earth so bright;So full of splendor and of joy,Beauty and light;So many glorious things are here,Noble and right.

My God, I thank thee who hast made

The earth so bright;

So full of splendor and of joy,

Beauty and light;

So many glorious things are here,

Noble and right.

I thank thee, too, that thou hast madeJoy to abound;So many gentle thoughts and deedsCircling us round;That in the darkest spot of earthSome love is found.

I thank thee, too, that thou hast made

Joy to abound;

So many gentle thoughts and deeds

Circling us round;

That in the darkest spot of earth

Some love is found.

I thank thee more that all our joyIs touched with pain;That shadows fall on brightest hours;That thorns remain;So that earth's bliss may be our guideAnd not our chain.

I thank thee more that all our joy

Is touched with pain;

That shadows fall on brightest hours;

That thorns remain;

So that earth's bliss may be our guide

And not our chain.

I thank thee, Lord, that thou hast keptThe best in store;We have enough, yet not too much,To long for more;A yearning for a deeper peaceNot known before.

I thank thee, Lord, that thou hast kept

The best in store;

We have enough, yet not too much,

To long for more;

A yearning for a deeper peace

Not known before.

I thank thee, Lord, that here our soulsThough amply blest,Can never find, although they seek,A perfect rest;Nor ever shall until they leanOn Jesus' breast.

I thank thee, Lord, that here our souls

Though amply blest,

Can never find, although they seek,

A perfect rest;

Nor ever shall until they lean

On Jesus' breast.

—Adelaide Anne Procter.

———

There was once a man who smiledBecause the day was bright,Because he slept at night,Because God gave him sightTo gaze upon his child;Because his little one,Could leap and laugh and run;Because the distant sunSmiled on the earth he smiled.He smiled because the skyWas high above his head,Because the rose was red,Because the past was dead!He never wondered whyThe Lord had blundered soThat all things have to goThe wrong way, here belowThe overarching sky.He toiled, and still was gladBecause the air was free,Because he loved, and sheThat claimed his love and heShared all the joys they had!Because the grasses grew,Because the sweet winds blew,Because that he could hewAnd hammer, he was glad.Because he lived he smiled,And did not look aheadWith bitterness or dread,But nightly sought his bedAs calmly as a child.And people called him madFor being always gladWith such things as he had,And shook their heads and smiled.—Samuel Ellsworth Kiser.

There was once a man who smiled

Because the day was bright,

Because he slept at night,

Because God gave him sight

To gaze upon his child;

Because his little one,

Could leap and laugh and run;

Because the distant sun

Smiled on the earth he smiled.

He smiled because the skyWas high above his head,Because the rose was red,Because the past was dead!He never wondered whyThe Lord had blundered soThat all things have to goThe wrong way, here belowThe overarching sky.

He smiled because the sky

Was high above his head,

Because the rose was red,

Because the past was dead!

He never wondered why

The Lord had blundered so

That all things have to go

The wrong way, here below

The overarching sky.

He toiled, and still was gladBecause the air was free,Because he loved, and sheThat claimed his love and heShared all the joys they had!Because the grasses grew,Because the sweet winds blew,Because that he could hewAnd hammer, he was glad.

He toiled, and still was glad

Because the air was free,

Because he loved, and she

That claimed his love and he

Shared all the joys they had!

Because the grasses grew,

Because the sweet winds blew,

Because that he could hew

And hammer, he was glad.

Because he lived he smiled,And did not look aheadWith bitterness or dread,But nightly sought his bedAs calmly as a child.And people called him madFor being always gladWith such things as he had,And shook their heads and smiled.

Because he lived he smiled,

And did not look ahead

With bitterness or dread,

But nightly sought his bed

As calmly as a child.

And people called him mad

For being always glad

With such things as he had,

And shook their heads and smiled.

—Samuel Ellsworth Kiser.

———

The soul contains a window whereIt may receive the sun and air,But some with self the window cloy,And shut out all the light and joy.—Nixon Waterman.

The soul contains a window whereIt may receive the sun and air,But some with self the window cloy,And shut out all the light and joy.

The soul contains a window where

It may receive the sun and air,

But some with self the window cloy,

And shut out all the light and joy.

—Nixon Waterman.

———

O Thou, whose bounty fills my cupWith every blessing meet!I give thee thanks for every drop—The bitter and the sweet.I praise Thee for the desert road,And for the riverside;For all thy goodness hath bestowed,And all thy grace denied.I thank Thee for both smile and frown,And for the gain and loss;I praise thee for the future crownAnd for the present cross.I thank Thee for the wing of loveWhich stirred my worldly nest;And for the stormy clouds which droveMe, trembling, to thy breast.I bless Thee for the glad increase,And for the waning joy;And for this strange, this settled peace,Which nothing can destroy.—Jane Crewdson.

O Thou, whose bounty fills my cupWith every blessing meet!I give thee thanks for every drop—The bitter and the sweet.

O Thou, whose bounty fills my cup

With every blessing meet!

I give thee thanks for every drop—

The bitter and the sweet.

I praise Thee for the desert road,And for the riverside;For all thy goodness hath bestowed,And all thy grace denied.

I praise Thee for the desert road,

And for the riverside;

For all thy goodness hath bestowed,

And all thy grace denied.

I thank Thee for both smile and frown,And for the gain and loss;I praise thee for the future crownAnd for the present cross.

I thank Thee for both smile and frown,

And for the gain and loss;

I praise thee for the future crown

And for the present cross.

I thank Thee for the wing of loveWhich stirred my worldly nest;And for the stormy clouds which droveMe, trembling, to thy breast.

I thank Thee for the wing of love

Which stirred my worldly nest;

And for the stormy clouds which drove

Me, trembling, to thy breast.

I bless Thee for the glad increase,And for the waning joy;And for this strange, this settled peace,Which nothing can destroy.

I bless Thee for the glad increase,

And for the waning joy;

And for this strange, this settled peace,

Which nothing can destroy.

—Jane Crewdson.

———

Lord, for the erring thoughtNot into evil wrought,Lord, for the wicked will,Betrayed and baffled still,For the heart from itself kept,Our thanksgiving accept.For the ignorant hopes that wereBroken to our blind prayer;For pain, death, sorrow, sentUnto our chastisement;For all loss of seeming good,Quicken our gratitude.—William Dean Howells.

Lord, for the erring thoughtNot into evil wrought,Lord, for the wicked will,Betrayed and baffled still,For the heart from itself kept,Our thanksgiving accept.

Lord, for the erring thought

Not into evil wrought,

Lord, for the wicked will,

Betrayed and baffled still,

For the heart from itself kept,

Our thanksgiving accept.

For the ignorant hopes that wereBroken to our blind prayer;For pain, death, sorrow, sentUnto our chastisement;For all loss of seeming good,Quicken our gratitude.

For the ignorant hopes that were

Broken to our blind prayer;

For pain, death, sorrow, sent

Unto our chastisement;

For all loss of seeming good,

Quicken our gratitude.

—William Dean Howells.

———

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,For those that here we see no more;Ring out the feud of rich and poor,Ring in redress to all mankind.Ring out a slowly-dying cause,And ancient forms of party strife;Ring in the nobler modes of life,With sweeter manners, purer laws.Ring out the want, the care, the sin,The faithless coldness of the times;Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,But ring the fuller minstrel in.Ring out false pride in place and blood,The civic slander and the spite;Ring in the love of truth and rightRing in the common love of good.Ring out old shapes of foul disease;Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;Ring out the thousand wars of old,Ring in the thousand years of peace.Ring in the valiant man and free,The larger heart, the kindlier hand;Ring out the darkness of the land,Ring in the Christ that is to be.—Alfred Tennyson.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,For those that here we see no more;Ring out the feud of rich and poor,Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,

For those that here we see no more;

Ring out the feud of rich and poor,

Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly-dying cause,And ancient forms of party strife;Ring in the nobler modes of life,With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out a slowly-dying cause,

And ancient forms of party strife;

Ring in the nobler modes of life,

With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,The faithless coldness of the times;Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,

The faithless coldness of the times;

Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,

But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,The civic slander and the spite;Ring in the love of truth and rightRing in the common love of good.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,

The civic slander and the spite;

Ring in the love of truth and right

Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;Ring out the thousand wars of old,Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;

Ring out the thousand wars of old,

Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,The larger heart, the kindlier hand;Ring out the darkness of the land,Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Ring in the valiant man and free,

The larger heart, the kindlier hand;

Ring out the darkness of the land,

Ring in the Christ that is to be.

—Alfred Tennyson.

———

Break forth, my lips, in praise, and ownThe wiser love severely kind;Since, richer for its chastening grown,I see, whereas I once was blind.The world, O Father, hath not wrongedWith loss the life by thee prolonged;But still, with every added year,More beautiful thy works appear.As thou hast made thy world without,Make thou more fair my world within;Shine through its lingering clouds of doubt;Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin;Fill, brief or long, my granted spanOf life with love to thee and man;Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest.But let my last days be my best.—John Greenleaf Whittier.

Break forth, my lips, in praise, and own

The wiser love severely kind;

Since, richer for its chastening grown,

I see, whereas I once was blind.

The world, O Father, hath not wronged

With loss the life by thee prolonged;

But still, with every added year,

More beautiful thy works appear.

As thou hast made thy world without,Make thou more fair my world within;Shine through its lingering clouds of doubt;Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin;Fill, brief or long, my granted spanOf life with love to thee and man;Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest.But let my last days be my best.

As thou hast made thy world without,

Make thou more fair my world within;

Shine through its lingering clouds of doubt;

Rebuke its haunting shapes of sin;

Fill, brief or long, my granted span

Of life with love to thee and man;

Strike when thou wilt the hour of rest.

But let my last days be my best.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

Then let us smile when skies are gray,And laugh at stormy weather!And sing life's lonesome times away;So—worry and the dreariest dayWill find an end together!

Then let us smile when skies are gray,

And laugh at stormy weather!

And sing life's lonesome times away;

So—worry and the dreariest day

Will find an end together!

———

Paul and Silas in their prisonSang of Christ the Lord arisen;And an earthquake's arm of mightBroke their dungeon gates at night.—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Paul and Silas in their prisonSang of Christ the Lord arisen;And an earthquake's arm of mightBroke their dungeon gates at night.

Paul and Silas in their prison

Sang of Christ the Lord arisen;

And an earthquake's arm of might

Broke their dungeon gates at night.

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

———

In a world where sorrow ever will be known,Where are found the needy, and the sad and lone;How much joy and comfort we can all bestowIf we scatter sunshine everywhere we go.Slightest actions often meet the sorest needs,For the world wants daily little kindly deeds;Oh, what care and sorrow we may help remove,With our songs and courage, sympathy and love.When the days are gloomy, sing some happy song,Meet the world's repining with a courage strong;Go, with faith undaunted, through the ills of life,Scatter smiles and sunshine o'er its toil and strife.—Lanta Wilson Smith.

In a world where sorrow ever will be known,Where are found the needy, and the sad and lone;How much joy and comfort we can all bestowIf we scatter sunshine everywhere we go.

In a world where sorrow ever will be known,

Where are found the needy, and the sad and lone;

How much joy and comfort we can all bestow

If we scatter sunshine everywhere we go.

Slightest actions often meet the sorest needs,For the world wants daily little kindly deeds;Oh, what care and sorrow we may help remove,With our songs and courage, sympathy and love.

Slightest actions often meet the sorest needs,

For the world wants daily little kindly deeds;

Oh, what care and sorrow we may help remove,

With our songs and courage, sympathy and love.

When the days are gloomy, sing some happy song,Meet the world's repining with a courage strong;Go, with faith undaunted, through the ills of life,Scatter smiles and sunshine o'er its toil and strife.

When the days are gloomy, sing some happy song,

Meet the world's repining with a courage strong;

Go, with faith undaunted, through the ills of life,

Scatter smiles and sunshine o'er its toil and strife.

—Lanta Wilson Smith.

———

I met a child, and kissed it; who shall sayI stole a joy in which I had no part?The happy creature from that very dayHath felt the more his little human heart.Now when I pass he runs away and smiles,And tries to seem afraid with pretty wiles.I am a happier and a richer man,Since I have sown this new joy in the earth;'Tis no small thing for us to reap stray mirthIn every sunny wayside where we can.It is a joy to me to be a joyWhich may in the most lowly heart take root;And it is gladness to that little boyTo look out for me at the mountain foot.—Frederick William Faber.

I met a child, and kissed it; who shall say

I stole a joy in which I had no part?

The happy creature from that very day

Hath felt the more his little human heart.

Now when I pass he runs away and smiles,

And tries to seem afraid with pretty wiles.

I am a happier and a richer man,

Since I have sown this new joy in the earth;

'Tis no small thing for us to reap stray mirth

In every sunny wayside where we can.

It is a joy to me to be a joy

Which may in the most lowly heart take root;

And it is gladness to that little boy

To look out for me at the mountain foot.

—Frederick William Faber.

———

Sow thou sorrow and thou shalt reap it;Sow thou joy and thou shalt keep it.—Richard Watson Gilder.

Sow thou sorrow and thou shalt reap it;Sow thou joy and thou shalt keep it.

Sow thou sorrow and thou shalt reap it;

Sow thou joy and thou shalt keep it.

—Richard Watson Gilder.

———

(Written in May, 1863, when cotton came to Lancashire, enabling the mills to open after being long closed. The suffering, grateful women sang the Doxology.)

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow."Praise Him who sendeth joy and woe.The Lord who takes—the Lord who gives—O praise him, all that dies, and lives.He opens and he shuts his hand,But why, we cannot understand.Pours and dries up his mercies' flood,And yet is still All-perfect Good.We fathom not the mighty plan,The mystery of God and man;We women, when afflictions come,We only suffer and are dumb.And when, the tempest passing by,He gleams out, sun-like, through our sky,We look up and, through black clouds riven,We recognize the smile of Heaven.Ours is no wisdom of the wise.We have no deep philosophies;Childlike we take both kiss and rod,For he who loveth knoweth God.—Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow."Praise Him who sendeth joy and woe.The Lord who takes—the Lord who gives—O praise him, all that dies, and lives.

"Praise God from whom all blessings flow."

Praise Him who sendeth joy and woe.

The Lord who takes—the Lord who gives—

O praise him, all that dies, and lives.

He opens and he shuts his hand,But why, we cannot understand.Pours and dries up his mercies' flood,And yet is still All-perfect Good.

He opens and he shuts his hand,

But why, we cannot understand.

Pours and dries up his mercies' flood,

And yet is still All-perfect Good.

We fathom not the mighty plan,The mystery of God and man;We women, when afflictions come,We only suffer and are dumb.

We fathom not the mighty plan,

The mystery of God and man;

We women, when afflictions come,

We only suffer and are dumb.

And when, the tempest passing by,He gleams out, sun-like, through our sky,We look up and, through black clouds riven,We recognize the smile of Heaven.

And when, the tempest passing by,

He gleams out, sun-like, through our sky,

We look up and, through black clouds riven,

We recognize the smile of Heaven.

Ours is no wisdom of the wise.We have no deep philosophies;Childlike we take both kiss and rod,For he who loveth knoweth God.

Ours is no wisdom of the wise.

We have no deep philosophies;

Childlike we take both kiss and rod,

For he who loveth knoweth God.

—Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.

———

Through night to light! And though to mortal eyesCreation's face a pall of horror wear,Good cheer! good cheer! the gloom of midnight flies;Then shall a sunrise follow, mild and fair.Through storm to calm! And though his thunder carThe rumbling tempest drive through earth and sky,Good cheer! good cheer! The elemental warTells that the blessèd healing hour is nigh.Through frost to spring! And though the biting blastOf Eurus stiffen nature's juicy veins,Good cheer! good cheer! When winter's wrath is past,Soft-murmuring spring breathes sweetly o'er the plains.Through strife to peace! And though with bristling frontA thousand frightful deaths encompass thee,Good cheer! good cheer! brave thou the battle's brunt,For the peace-march and song of victory.Through toil to sleep! And though the sultry noonWith heavy drooping wing oppress thee now,Good cheer! good cheer! the cool of evening soonShall lull to sweet repose thy weary brow.Through cross to crown! And though thy spirit's lifeTrials untold assail with giant strength,Good cheer! good cheer! soon ends the bitter strife,And thou shalt reign in peace with Christ at length.Through woe to joy! And though at morn thou weep,And though the midnight find thee weeping still,Good cheer! good cheer! the Shepherd loves his sheep;Resign thee to the watchful Father's will.—Rosegarten, tr. by Charles Timothy Brooks.

Through night to light! And though to mortal eyesCreation's face a pall of horror wear,Good cheer! good cheer! the gloom of midnight flies;Then shall a sunrise follow, mild and fair.

Through night to light! And though to mortal eyes

Creation's face a pall of horror wear,

Good cheer! good cheer! the gloom of midnight flies;

Then shall a sunrise follow, mild and fair.

Through storm to calm! And though his thunder carThe rumbling tempest drive through earth and sky,Good cheer! good cheer! The elemental warTells that the blessèd healing hour is nigh.

Through storm to calm! And though his thunder car

The rumbling tempest drive through earth and sky,

Good cheer! good cheer! The elemental war

Tells that the blessèd healing hour is nigh.

Through frost to spring! And though the biting blastOf Eurus stiffen nature's juicy veins,Good cheer! good cheer! When winter's wrath is past,Soft-murmuring spring breathes sweetly o'er the plains.

Through frost to spring! And though the biting blast

Of Eurus stiffen nature's juicy veins,

Good cheer! good cheer! When winter's wrath is past,

Soft-murmuring spring breathes sweetly o'er the plains.

Through strife to peace! And though with bristling frontA thousand frightful deaths encompass thee,Good cheer! good cheer! brave thou the battle's brunt,For the peace-march and song of victory.

Through strife to peace! And though with bristling front

A thousand frightful deaths encompass thee,

Good cheer! good cheer! brave thou the battle's brunt,

For the peace-march and song of victory.

Through toil to sleep! And though the sultry noonWith heavy drooping wing oppress thee now,Good cheer! good cheer! the cool of evening soonShall lull to sweet repose thy weary brow.

Through toil to sleep! And though the sultry noon

With heavy drooping wing oppress thee now,

Good cheer! good cheer! the cool of evening soon

Shall lull to sweet repose thy weary brow.

Through cross to crown! And though thy spirit's lifeTrials untold assail with giant strength,Good cheer! good cheer! soon ends the bitter strife,And thou shalt reign in peace with Christ at length.

Through cross to crown! And though thy spirit's life

Trials untold assail with giant strength,

Good cheer! good cheer! soon ends the bitter strife,

And thou shalt reign in peace with Christ at length.

Through woe to joy! And though at morn thou weep,And though the midnight find thee weeping still,Good cheer! good cheer! the Shepherd loves his sheep;Resign thee to the watchful Father's will.

Through woe to joy! And though at morn thou weep,

And though the midnight find thee weeping still,

Good cheer! good cheer! the Shepherd loves his sheep;

Resign thee to the watchful Father's will.

—Rosegarten, tr. by Charles Timothy Brooks.

———

Talk Happiness. The world is sad enoughWithout your woes. No path is wholly rough;Look for the places that are smooth and clear,And speak of those to rest the weary earOf earth, so hurt by one continuous strainOf human discontent and grief and pain.

Talk Happiness. The world is sad enough

Without your woes. No path is wholly rough;

Look for the places that are smooth and clear,

And speak of those to rest the weary ear

Of earth, so hurt by one continuous strain

Of human discontent and grief and pain.

———

Serve God and be cheerful. Make brighterThe brightness that falls to thy lot;The rare, or the daily sent, blessingProfane not with gloom or with doubt.Serve God and be cheerful. Each sorrowIs—with thy will in God's—for the best.O'er the cloud hangs the rainbow. To-morrowWill see the blue sky in the west.Serve God and be cheerful. Look upward!God's countenance scatters the gloom;And the soft summer light of his heavenShines over the cross and the tomb.Serve God and be cheerful. The wrinklesOf age we may take with a smile;But the wrinkles of faithless forebodingAre the crow's-feet of Beelzebub's guile.Serve God and be cheerful. The winterRolls round to the beautiful spring.And o'er the green grave of the snowdriftThe nest-building robins will sing.Serve God and be cheerful. Live nobly,Do right, and do good. Make the bestOf the gifts and the work put before you,And to God without fear leave the rest.—William Newell.

Serve God and be cheerful. Make brighterThe brightness that falls to thy lot;The rare, or the daily sent, blessingProfane not with gloom or with doubt.

Serve God and be cheerful. Make brighter

The brightness that falls to thy lot;

The rare, or the daily sent, blessing

Profane not with gloom or with doubt.

Serve God and be cheerful. Each sorrowIs—with thy will in God's—for the best.O'er the cloud hangs the rainbow. To-morrowWill see the blue sky in the west.

Serve God and be cheerful. Each sorrow

Is—with thy will in God's—for the best.

O'er the cloud hangs the rainbow. To-morrow

Will see the blue sky in the west.

Serve God and be cheerful. Look upward!God's countenance scatters the gloom;And the soft summer light of his heavenShines over the cross and the tomb.

Serve God and be cheerful. Look upward!

God's countenance scatters the gloom;

And the soft summer light of his heaven

Shines over the cross and the tomb.

Serve God and be cheerful. The wrinklesOf age we may take with a smile;But the wrinkles of faithless forebodingAre the crow's-feet of Beelzebub's guile.

Serve God and be cheerful. The wrinkles

Of age we may take with a smile;

But the wrinkles of faithless foreboding

Are the crow's-feet of Beelzebub's guile.

Serve God and be cheerful. The winterRolls round to the beautiful spring.And o'er the green grave of the snowdriftThe nest-building robins will sing.

Serve God and be cheerful. The winter

Rolls round to the beautiful spring.

And o'er the green grave of the snowdrift

The nest-building robins will sing.

Serve God and be cheerful. Live nobly,Do right, and do good. Make the bestOf the gifts and the work put before you,And to God without fear leave the rest.

Serve God and be cheerful. Live nobly,

Do right, and do good. Make the best

Of the gifts and the work put before you,

And to God without fear leave the rest.

—William Newell.

———

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.Earthliness, coldness, unthankful behavior—Ah! thou mayst sorrow, but do not despair.Even this grief thou mayst bring to thy Saviour,Cast upon him this burden of care!Bring all thy hardness—His power can subdue it,How full is the promise! The blessing how free:"Whatsoever ye ask in my name, I will do it;Abide in my love and be joyful in me."

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.

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.

Earthliness, coldness, unthankful behavior—Ah! thou mayst sorrow, but do not despair.Even this grief thou mayst bring to thy Saviour,Cast upon him this burden of care!

Earthliness, coldness, unthankful behavior—

Ah! thou mayst sorrow, but do not despair.

Even this grief thou mayst bring to thy Saviour,

Cast upon him this burden of care!

Bring all thy hardness—His power can subdue it,How full is the promise! The blessing how free:"Whatsoever ye ask in my name, I will do it;Abide in my love and be joyful in me."

Bring all thy hardness—His power can subdue it,

How full is the promise! The blessing how free:

"Whatsoever ye ask in my name, I will do it;

Abide in my love and be joyful in me."

———

Not always the path is easy;There are thickets hung with gloom,There are rough and stony placesWhere never the roses bloom.But oft, when the way is hardest,I am conscious of One at my sideWhose hands and whose feet are wounded,And I'm happy and safe with my Guide.Better than friends and kindred,Better than love and rest,Dearer than hope and triumph,Is the name I wear on my breast.I feel my way through the shadowsWith a confident heart and brave;I shall live in the light beyond them;I shall conquer death and the grave.Often when tried and tempted,Often, ashamed of sin—That, strong as an armed invader,Has made wreck of the peace within—That wonderful loving-kindness,Patient and full and free,Has stooped for my consolation;Has brought a blessing to me.Therefore my lips shall praise thee,Therefore, let come what may,To the height of a solemn gladnessMy song shall arise to-day.Not on the drooping willowShall I hang my harp in the land,When the Lord himself has cheered meBy the touch of his pierced hand.—Margaret Elizabeth Sangster.

Not always the path is easy;

There are thickets hung with gloom,

There are rough and stony places

Where never the roses bloom.

But oft, when the way is hardest,

I am conscious of One at my side

Whose hands and whose feet are wounded,

And I'm happy and safe with my Guide.

Better than friends and kindred,Better than love and rest,Dearer than hope and triumph,Is the name I wear on my breast.I feel my way through the shadowsWith a confident heart and brave;I shall live in the light beyond them;I shall conquer death and the grave.

Better than friends and kindred,

Better than love and rest,

Dearer than hope and triumph,

Is the name I wear on my breast.

I feel my way through the shadows

With a confident heart and brave;

I shall live in the light beyond them;

I shall conquer death and the grave.

Often when tried and tempted,Often, ashamed of sin—That, strong as an armed invader,Has made wreck of the peace within—That wonderful loving-kindness,Patient and full and free,Has stooped for my consolation;Has brought a blessing to me.

Often when tried and tempted,

Often, ashamed of sin—

That, strong as an armed invader,

Has made wreck of the peace within—

That wonderful loving-kindness,

Patient and full and free,

Has stooped for my consolation;

Has brought a blessing to me.

Therefore my lips shall praise thee,Therefore, let come what may,To the height of a solemn gladnessMy song shall arise to-day.Not on the drooping willowShall I hang my harp in the land,When the Lord himself has cheered meBy the touch of his pierced hand.

Therefore my lips shall praise thee,

Therefore, let come what may,

To the height of a solemn gladness

My song shall arise to-day.

Not on the drooping willow

Shall I hang my harp in the land,

When the Lord himself has cheered me

By the touch of his pierced hand.

—Margaret Elizabeth Sangster.

———

To try each day his will to know;To tread the way his will may show;To live for him who gave me life;To strive for him who suffered strifeAnd sacrifice through death for me—Let this my joy, my portion be.

To try each day his will to know;

To tread the way his will may show;

To live for him who gave me life;

To strive for him who suffered strife

And sacrifice through death for me—

Let this my joy, my portion be.

———

I thank thee, Lord, for mine unanswered prayers,Unanswered save thy quiet, kindly "Nay";Yet it seemed hard among my heavy cares—That bitter day.I wanted joy; but Thou didst know for meThat sorrow was the gift I needed most,And in its mystic depths I learned to seeThe Holy Ghost.I wanted health; but thou didst bid me soundThe secret treasuries of pain,And in the moans and groans my heart oft foundThy Christ again.I wanted wealth; 'twas not the better part;There is a wealth with poverty oft given.And thou didst teach me of the gold of heart—Best gift of heaven.I thank thee, Lord, for these unanswered prayers,And for thy word, the quiet, kindly "Nay."'Twas thy withholding lightened all my caresThat blessed day.—Oliver Huckel.

I thank thee, Lord, for mine unanswered prayers,Unanswered save thy quiet, kindly "Nay";Yet it seemed hard among my heavy cares—That bitter day.

I thank thee, Lord, for mine unanswered prayers,

Unanswered save thy quiet, kindly "Nay";

Yet it seemed hard among my heavy cares—

That bitter day.

I wanted joy; but Thou didst know for meThat sorrow was the gift I needed most,And in its mystic depths I learned to seeThe Holy Ghost.

I wanted joy; but Thou didst know for me

That sorrow was the gift I needed most,

And in its mystic depths I learned to see

The Holy Ghost.

I wanted health; but thou didst bid me soundThe secret treasuries of pain,And in the moans and groans my heart oft foundThy Christ again.

I wanted health; but thou didst bid me sound

The secret treasuries of pain,

And in the moans and groans my heart oft found

Thy Christ again.

I wanted wealth; 'twas not the better part;There is a wealth with poverty oft given.And thou didst teach me of the gold of heart—Best gift of heaven.

I wanted wealth; 'twas not the better part;

There is a wealth with poverty oft given.

And thou didst teach me of the gold of heart—

Best gift of heaven.

I thank thee, Lord, for these unanswered prayers,And for thy word, the quiet, kindly "Nay."'Twas thy withholding lightened all my caresThat blessed day.

I thank thee, Lord, for these unanswered prayers,

And for thy word, the quiet, kindly "Nay."

'Twas thy withholding lightened all my cares

That blessed day.

—Oliver Huckel.

———

Open the shutters free and wide.And "glorify the room";That no dark shadows here may bide—That there be naught of gloom.What joy to breathe the morning air,And see the sun again;With living things God's love to share,In recompense for pain.—Henry Coyle.

Open the shutters free and wide.And "glorify the room";That no dark shadows here may bide—That there be naught of gloom.

Open the shutters free and wide.

And "glorify the room";

That no dark shadows here may bide—

That there be naught of gloom.

What joy to breathe the morning air,And see the sun again;With living things God's love to share,In recompense for pain.

What joy to breathe the morning air,

And see the sun again;

With living things God's love to share,

In recompense for pain.

—Henry Coyle.

———

For all the evils under the sunThere is some remedy or none;If there is one be sure to find it;If there is none, why, never mind it.

For all the evils under the sun

There is some remedy or none;

If there is one be sure to find it;

If there is none, why, never mind it.

———

Again, O God, the night shuts down,Again I kneel to praise!Thy wisdom, love, and truth and powerHave long made glad my days.And, now, with added gratitude,An evening hymn I raise.I take the attitude of prayer,But not for gifts to plead;Thy bounty, far beyond desert,Has more than met my need;So, well content, I worship TheeIn thought and word and deed.Thou bidst me ask, if I'd receive,And seek, if I would find;But surely Thou wilt not condemnA heart to trust inclined.Give what is best; Thou knowest all.How blest the quiet mind!I praise thee that in all the hoursAnd moments, as they glide,Thy providence enfoldeth close;Thy blessings rich abide;And Thou dost keep in perfect peaceThose who in thee confide.I praise thee for what seemeth good,And for what seemeth ill.Appearances are vain deceits;Above them stands thy will;By faith, not sight, thy children walk,In hottest fire hold still.Accept the off'ring that I layIn gladness at thy feet;My heart o'erflows with keenest joy,With ecstacy complete.Because, in all vicissitudes,Thy constancy I greet.Thou wilt not cease to love me well,Nor fail to hold me fast;Though pain may come, it cannot harm;My care on thee is cast,For future good he'll surely sendWho sent so sweet a past.Praise waits in Zion, Lord, for thee,Praise runs the world around;And so this little heart of mineShall ne'er in gloom be found,Rejoicing that all days and nightsMay with thy praise resound.—James Mudge.

Again, O God, the night shuts down,Again I kneel to praise!Thy wisdom, love, and truth and powerHave long made glad my days.And, now, with added gratitude,An evening hymn I raise.

Again, O God, the night shuts down,

Again I kneel to praise!

Thy wisdom, love, and truth and power

Have long made glad my days.

And, now, with added gratitude,

An evening hymn I raise.

I take the attitude of prayer,But not for gifts to plead;Thy bounty, far beyond desert,Has more than met my need;So, well content, I worship TheeIn thought and word and deed.

I take the attitude of prayer,

But not for gifts to plead;

Thy bounty, far beyond desert,

Has more than met my need;

So, well content, I worship Thee

In thought and word and deed.

Thou bidst me ask, if I'd receive,And seek, if I would find;But surely Thou wilt not condemnA heart to trust inclined.Give what is best; Thou knowest all.How blest the quiet mind!

Thou bidst me ask, if I'd receive,

And seek, if I would find;

But surely Thou wilt not condemn

A heart to trust inclined.

Give what is best; Thou knowest all.

How blest the quiet mind!

I praise thee that in all the hoursAnd moments, as they glide,Thy providence enfoldeth close;Thy blessings rich abide;And Thou dost keep in perfect peaceThose who in thee confide.

I praise thee that in all the hours

And moments, as they glide,

Thy providence enfoldeth close;

Thy blessings rich abide;

And Thou dost keep in perfect peace

Those who in thee confide.

I praise thee for what seemeth good,And for what seemeth ill.Appearances are vain deceits;Above them stands thy will;By faith, not sight, thy children walk,In hottest fire hold still.

I praise thee for what seemeth good,

And for what seemeth ill.

Appearances are vain deceits;

Above them stands thy will;

By faith, not sight, thy children walk,

In hottest fire hold still.

Accept the off'ring that I layIn gladness at thy feet;My heart o'erflows with keenest joy,With ecstacy complete.Because, in all vicissitudes,Thy constancy I greet.

Accept the off'ring that I lay

In gladness at thy feet;

My heart o'erflows with keenest joy,

With ecstacy complete.

Because, in all vicissitudes,

Thy constancy I greet.

Thou wilt not cease to love me well,Nor fail to hold me fast;Though pain may come, it cannot harm;My care on thee is cast,For future good he'll surely sendWho sent so sweet a past.

Thou wilt not cease to love me well,

Nor fail to hold me fast;

Though pain may come, it cannot harm;

My care on thee is cast,

For future good he'll surely send

Who sent so sweet a past.

Praise waits in Zion, Lord, for thee,Praise runs the world around;And so this little heart of mineShall ne'er in gloom be found,Rejoicing that all days and nightsMay with thy praise resound.

Praise waits in Zion, Lord, for thee,

Praise runs the world around;

And so this little heart of mine

Shall ne'er in gloom be found,

Rejoicing that all days and nights

May with thy praise resound.

—James Mudge.

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