Like a lily bruised and drooping,
Before its early flower
Had fully opened to the sun,
Or reached a noontide hour;
Broken, and yet more fragrant
For the heavy-beating shower.
It was not the first spring-time
Passed without one glad sight
Of a starry primrose growing,
Or a brooklet swift and bright,
And without one bounding footstep
On a field with daisies white.
It was not the first spring-time;
And it might not be the last
In weariness and suffering
Thus to be slowly passed:
For when the young feet cannot move,
Months do not travel fast.
And yet she saw what others
Have never sought or seen,
A splendour more than spring-light
On fair trees waving green,
And more than summer sunshine
On ocean silver-sheen.
Her pencil tracing feebly
Words that shall echo still,
Perchance some unknown mission
May joyously fulfil :—
"I think I just begin to see
The splendour of God's will !"
O words of golden music,
Caught from the harps on high, Which find a glorious anthem Where we have found a sigh, And peal their grandest praises Just where ours faint and die!
O words of holy radiance,
Shining on every tear
Till it becomes a rainbow,
Reflecting, bright and clear,
Our Father's love and glory,
So wonderful, so dear!
O words of sparkling power,
Of insight full and deep!
Shall they not enter other hearts
In a grand and gladsome sweep,
And lift the lives to songs of joy
That only droop and weep?
For her, God's will was suffering,
Just waiting, lying still;
Days passing on in weariness,
In shadows deep and chill :
And yet she had begun to see
The splendour of God's will!
And oh, it is a splendour,
A glow of majesty,
A mystery of beauty,
If we will only see;
A very cloud of glory
Enfolding you and me.
A splendour that is lighted
At one transcendent flame,
The wondrous Love, the perfect Love,
Our Father's sweetest name :
For His very Name and Essence
And His Will are all the same.
A splendour that is shining
Upon His children's way,
That guides the willing footsteps
That do not want to stray,
And that leads them ever onward
Unto the perfect day.
A splendour that illumines
The abysses of the Past
And marvels of the Future,
Sublime and bright and vast :
While o'er our tiny present
A flood of light is cast.
No twilight falls upon it,
No shadow dims its ray,
No darkness overcomes it,
No night can end its day:
It hath unending triumph
And everlasting sway.
Blest will of God! most glorious,
The very fount of grace,
Whence all the goodness floweth
That heart can ever trace-
Temple, whose pinnacles are love,
And faithfulness its base.
Blest will of God! whose splendour
Is dawning on the world,
On hearts in which Christ's banner
Is manfully unfurled,
On hearts of childlike meekness,
With dew of youth impearled.
O Spirit of Jehovah,
Reveal this glory still! That many an empty chalice
Sweet thanks and praise may fill, When like this "little one" they see
"The splendour of God's will."
That faith may win the vision
That hers hath early won,
And gaze upon the splendour,
And own the cloudless sun,
And join the seraph song of love,
And sing "Thy will be done." F. R. H.
THERE are hands too often weary
With the business of the day,
With God-entrusted duties,
Who are toiling while they pray.
They bear the golden vials,
And the golden harps of praise,
Through all the daily trials,
Through all the dusty ways.
These hands, so tired, so faithful,
With odours sweet are filled,
And in the ministry of prayer
Are wonderfully skilled.
There are ministers unlettered,
Not of Earth's great and wise,
Yet mighty and unfettered
Their eagle prayers arise.
Free of the heavenly storehouse!
For they hold the master-key
That opens all the fulness
Of God's great treasury.
They bring the needs of others,
And all things are their own,
For their one great claim is Jesus' name
Before their Father's throne.
THE ALTERED MOTTO.
OH! the bitter shame and sorrow,
That a time could ever be,
When I let the Saviour's pity
Plead in vain, and proudly answered,
"All of self, and none of Thee."
Yet He found me: I beheld Him,
Bleeding on the accursed tree;
Heard Him pray, "Forgive them, Father!"
And my wistful heart said faintly,
"Some of self, and some of Thee.”
Day by day His tender mercy,
Healing, helping, full and free,
Sweet and strong, and ah! so patient!
Brought me lower, while I whispered,
"Less of self, and more of Thee."
Higher than the highest heavens,
Deeper than the deepest sea,
Lord, Thy love at last has conquered;
Grant me now my soul's desire,
"None of self, and all of Thee."
DAILY BREAD.
LORD, we pray for daily bread,
Yet are filled with fear,
If Thou give us not instead
Store for all the year.
Those with whom we share the food-
Babes that ask of us-
We should thankless think, and rude,
Did they serve us thus.
Lord, be Thou our daily bread,
Then we know indeed,
We shall be as duly fed
As the babes we feed.
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