Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul Part 52

HUMILITY

O humble me! I cannot bide the joy That in my Saviour's presence ever flows; May I be lowly, lest it may destroy The peace his childlike spirit ever knows.

I would not speak thy word, but by thee stand While thou dost to thine erring children speak; O help me but to keep his own command, And in my strength to feel me ever weak; Then in thy presence shall I humbly stay, Nor lose the life of love he came to give; And find at last the life, the truth, the way To where with him thy blessed servants live; And walk forever in the path of truth-- A servant, yet a son; a sire and yet a youth.

--Jones Very.

TURN FROM SELF

This is the highest learning, The hardest and the best-- From self to keep still turning, And honor all the rest.

If one should break the letter, Yea, spirit of command, Think not that thou art better; Thou may'st not always stand!

We all are weak--but weaker Hold no one than thou art; Then, as thou growest meeker, Higher will go thy heart.

--George Macdonald.

In proud humility a pious man went through the field; The ears of corn were bowing in the wind, as if they kneeled; He struck them on the head, and modestly began to say, "Unto the Lord, not unto me, such honors should you pay."

--From the Persian.

MEEKNESS OF MOSES

Moses, the patriot fierce, became The meekest man on earth, To show us how love's quickening flame Can give our souls new birth.

Moses, the man of meekest heart, Lost Canaan by self-will, To show, where grace has done its part, How sin defiles us still.

Thou who hast taught me in thy fear, Yet seest me frail at best, Oh, grant me loss with Moses here, To gain his future rest.

--John Henry Newman.

LAUS DEO

Let praise devote thy work, and skill employ Thy whole mind, and thy heart be lost in joy.

Well-doing bringeth pride; this constant thought Humility, that thy best done is naught.

Man doeth nothing well, be it great or small, Save to praise G.o.d; but that hath saved all.

For G.o.d requires no more than thou hast done, And takes thy work to bless it for his own.

--Robert Bridges.

"A commonplace life," we say, and we sigh; But why should we sigh as we say?

The commonplace sun in the commonplace sky Makes up the commonplace day.

The moon and the stars are commonplace things, And the flower that blooms and the bird that sings, But dark were the world and sad our lot If the flowers failed and the sun shone not; And G.o.d, who studies each separate soul Out of commonplace lives makes his beautiful whole.

Humility, that low, sweet root From which all heavenly virtues shoot.

--Thomas Moore.

THE EVERLASTING MEMORIAL

Up and away, like the dew of the morning That soars from the earth to its home in the sun, So let me steal away, gently and lovingly, Only remembered by what I have done.

My name, and my place, and my tomb all forgotten, The brief race of time well and patiently run, So let me pa.s.s away, peacefully, silently, Only remembered by what I have done.

Gladly away from this toil would I hasten, Up to the crown that for me has been won; Unthought of by man in rewards or in praises; Only remembered by what I have done.

Up and away, like the odors of sunset, That sweeten the twilight as evening comes on, So be my life--a thing felt but not noticed,-- And I but remembered by what I have done.

Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in freshness When the flowers that it came from are closed up and gone.

So would I be to this world's weary dwellers Only remembered by what I have done.

I need not be missed, if my life has been bearing (As its summer and autumn move silently on) The bloom, and the fruit, and the seed of its season; I shall still be remembered by what I have done.

Needs there the praise of the love-written record, The name and the epitaph graved on the stone?

The things we have lived for--let them be our story-- We ourselves but remembered by what we have done.

I need not be missed if another succeed me, To reap down the fields which in spring I have sown; He who plowed and who sowed is not missed by the reaper, He is only remembered by what he has done.

Not myself, but the truth that in life I have spoken, Not myself, but the seed that in life I have sown, Shall pa.s.s on to ages--all about me forgotten, Save the truth I have spoken, the things I have done.

So let my living be, so be my dying; So let my name lie, unblazoned, unknown; Unpraised and unmissed, I shall still be remembered; Yes, but remembered for what I have done.

--Horatius Bonar.

SELF

O I could go through all life's troubles singing, Turning earth's night to day, If self were not so fast around me clinging, To all I do or say.

O Lord! that I could waste my life for others, With no ends of my own, That I could pour myself into my brothers And live for them alone!

Such was the life thou livedst; self-abjuring, Thine own pains never easing, Our burdens bearing, our just doom enduring; A life without self-pleasing.

--Frederick William Faber.

BRINGING OUR SHEAVES WITH US

The time for toil is past, and night has come-- The last and saddest of the harvest eves; Worn out with labor, long and wearisome, Drooping and faint, the reapers hasten home, Each laden with his sheaves.

Last of the laborers, thy feet I gain, Lord of the harvest! and my spirit grieves That I am burdened not so much with grain As with a heaviness of heart and brain; Master, behold my sheaves.