Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul Part 41

I know that Thou wast willing first, And then drew my consent; Having thus loved me at the worst Thou wilt not now repent.

Now I have quit all self-pretense, Take charge of what's thine own: My life, my health, and my defense, Now lie on thee alone.

--Richard Baxter.

THE LAST WISH

To do or not to do; to have Or not to have, I leave to thee; To be or not to be I leave; Thy only will be done in me.

All my requests are lost in one: Father, thy only will be done.

Suffice that, for the season past, Myself in things divine I sought, For comforts cried with eager haste, And murmured that I found them not.

I leave it now to Thee alone: Father, thy only will be done.

Thy gifts I clamor for no more, Or selfishly thy grace require An evil heart to varnish o'er; Jesus, the Giver, I desire, After the flesh no longer known: Father, thy only will be done.

Welcome alike the crown or cross; Trouble I cannot ask, nor peace, Nor toil, nor rest, nor gain, nor loss, Nor joy, nor grief, nor pain, nor ease, Nor life, nor death, but ever groan, Father, thy only will be done.

--Charles Wesley.

MORNING HYMN

O G.o.d! I thank thee for each sight Of beauty that thy hand doth give; For sunny skies and air and light; O G.o.d, I thank thee that I live!

That life I consecrate to Thee; And ever as the day is born, On wings of joy my soul would flee And thank thee for another morn;

Another day in which to cast Some silent deed of love abroad, That, greatening as it journeys past, May do some earnest work for G.o.d;

Another day to do and dare; To tax anew my growing strength; To arm my soul with faith and prayer, And so reach heaven and Thee at length.

--Caroline Atherton Mason.

"INTO THY HANDS"

Into Thy guiding hands; Along a way thy love and care forefend Gladly I fare, or rough or smooth may bend The longest road that leads at life's far end Into thy hands.

Into thy chastening hands: If e'er I yield to weakness or to sin, Blind to the guerdon Thou dost bid me win, Bring Thou me back, by Love's sweet discipline, Into thy hands.

Into Thy healing hands; No hurt of soul or body long enthralls, The bruised heart that for thy succor calls When, far from doubting as from fear, it falls Into thy hands.

Into thy saving hands: Despite a.s.soil, infirmity, mistake, My life a perfect whole thy power can make, If Thou my shards of broken purpose take Into thy hands.

Into Thy keeping hands; As safe as Heaven kept the guarded Grail-- So safe, so pure, so compa.s.sed as with mail-- The soul committed, e'en through Death's dark vale, Into thy hands.

Into thy loving hands; Who made my heart to love made Thee my guest; Who made the world to tire made thee my rest; My joyful heart I give, at thy behest, Into thy hands.

--Louise Manning Hodgkins.

HERE AM I

My will would like a life of ease, And power to do, and time to rest, And health and strength my will would please, But, Lord, I know thy will is best.

If I have strength to do thy will That should be power enough for me, Whether to work or to sit still The appointment of the day may be.

And if by sickness I may grow More patient, holy and resigned, Strong health I need not wish to know, And greater ease I cannot find.

And rest--I need not seek it here; For perfect rest remaineth still; When in thy presence we appear Rest shall be given by thy will.

Lord I have given my life to thee, And every day and hour is thine; What thou appointest let them be: Thy will is better, Lord, than mine.

--Anna B. Warner.

THE SACRIFICE OF THE WILL

Laid on thine altar, O my Lord Divine, Accept my will this day, for Jesus' sake; I have no jewels to adorn thy shrine-- Nor any world-proud sacrifice to make; But here I bring within my trembling hand, This will of mine--a thing that seemeth small, And Thou alone, O G.o.d, canst understand How, when I yield Thee this, I yield mine all.

Hidden therein, thy searching gaze can see Struggles of pa.s.sion--visions of delight-- All that I love, and am, and fain would be, Deep loves, fond hopes, and longings infinite.

It hath been wet with tears and dimmed with sighs, Clinched in my grasp, till beauty hath it none-- Now, from thy footstool where it vanquished lies, The prayer ascendeth, "May thy will be done."

Take it, O Father, ere my courage fail, And merge it so in thine own Will, that e'en If, in some desperate hour, my cries prevail, And thou give back my will, it may have been So changed, so purified, so fair have grown, So one with thee, so filled with peace divine, I may not see nor know it as my own, But, gaining back my will, may find it thine.

Manlike is it to fall into sin, Fiendlike is it to dwell therein, Christlike is it for sin to grieve, G.o.dlike is it all sin to leave.

--Friedrich von Logau.

O G.o.d OF TRUTH

O G.o.d of Truth, whose living word Upholds whate'er hath breath, Look down on thy creation, Lord, Enslaved by sin and death.

Set up thy standard, Lord, that they Who claim a heavenly birth May march with thee to smite the lies That vex thy ransomed earth.

Ah! would we join that blest array, And follow in the might Of Him, the Faithful and the True, In raiment clean and white.

_We_ fight for truth, _we_ fight for G.o.d-- Poor slaves of lies and sin!

He who would fight for thee on earth Must first be true within.

Thou G.o.d of Truth for whom we long-- Thou who wilt hear our prayer-- Do thine own battle in our hearts; And slay the falsehood there.

Still smite! still burn! till naught is left But G.o.d's own truth and love; Then, Lord, as morning dew come down, Rest on us from above.

Yea, come! then, tried as in the fire, From every lie set free, Thy perfect truth shall dwell in us, And we shall live in Thee.

--Thomas Hughes.

G.o.d ONLY