Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul Part 58

While, no treason near her lurking, Patience in her perfect working, Shall be Queen at length.

BE CONTENT

Be thou content; be still before His face at whose right hand doth reign Fullness of joy for evermore, Without whom all thy toil is vain; He is thy living spring, thy sun, whose rays Make glad with life and light thy dreary days.

Be thou content.

In him is comfort, light, and grace, And changeless love beyond our thought; The sorest pang, the worst disgrace, If he is there, shall harm thee not.

He can lift off thy cross and loose thy bands, And calm thy fears; nay, death is in His hands.

Be thou content.

Or art thou friendless and alone-- Hast none in whom thou canst confide?

G.o.d careth for thee, lonely one-- Comfort and help he will provide.

He sees thy sorrows, and thy hidden grief, He knoweth when to send thee quick relief; Be thou content.

Thy heart's unspoken pain he knows, Thy secret sighs he hears full well; What to none else thou darest disclose To him thou mayest with boldness tell.

He is not far away, but ever nigh, And answereth willingly the poor man's cry: Be thou content.

MANNA

'Twas in the night the manna fell That fed the hosts of Israel.

Enough for each day's fullest store And largest need; enough, no more.

For willful waste, for prideful show, G.o.d sent not angels' food below.

Still in our nights of deep distress The manna falls our heart to bless.

And, famished, as we cry for bread, With heavenly food our lives are fed,

And each day's need finds each day's store Enough. Dear Lord, what want we more!

--Margaret Elizabeth Sangster.

BLESSINGS NEAR AT HAND

We look too far for blessings; We seek too far for joys; We ought to be like children Who find their chiefest toys

Ofttimes in nearest attic, Or in some dingy lane-- Their ap.r.o.ns full of weeds or flowers Gathered in sun or rain.

Within the plainest cottage Unselfish love may grow; The sweetest, the divinest gift, Which mortals ever know.

We ought to count our joys, not woes; Meet care with winsome grace; For discontent plows furrows Upon the loveliest face.

Hope, freedom, sunlight, knowledge, Come not to wealth alone; He who looks far for blessings Will overlook his own.

--Sarah Knowles Bolton.

I WOULDN'T

A sprig of mint by the wayward brook, A nibble of birch in the wood, A summer day, and love, and a book, And I wouldn't be a king if I could.

--John Vance Cheney.

The way to make thy son rich is to fill His mind with rest before his trunk with riches: For wealth without contentment climbs a hill To feel those tempests which fly over ditches.

--George Herbert.

THE JEWEL

There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, No chemic art can counterfeit; It makes men rich in greatest poverty, Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, The homely whistle to sweet music's strain; Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent, That much in little, all in naught--Content.

FINDING CONTENT

I could not find the little maid Content, So out I rushed, and sought her far and wide; But not where Pleasure each new fancy tried, Heading the maze of rioting merriment, Nor where, with restless eyes and bow half bent, Love in the brake of sweetbriar smiled and sighed, Nor yet where Fame towered, crowned and glorified, Found I her face, nor wheresoe'er I went.

So homeward back I crawled, like wounded bird, When lo! Content sate spinning at my door; And when I asked her where she was before-- "Here all the time," she said; "I never stirred; Too eager in thy search, you pa.s.sed me o'er, And, though I called you, neither saw nor heard."

--Alfred Austin.

DAILY STRENGTH

Day by day the manna fell; O to learn this lesson well; Still by constant mercy fed, Give me, Lord, my daily bread.

"Day by day," the promise reads; Daily strength for daily needs; Cast foreboding fears away; Take the manna of to-day.

Lord, my times are in thy hand.

All my sanguine hopes have planned To thy wisdom I resign, And would make thy purpose thine.

Thou my daily task shalt give; Day by day to Thee I live; So shall added years fulfill Not my own--my Father's will.

Fond ambition, whisper not; Happy is my humble lot; Anxious, busy cares away; I'm provided for to-day.

O to live exempt from care By the energy of prayer; Strong in faith, with mind subdued, Yet elate with grat.i.tude.

--Josiah Conder.

G.o.d IS ENOUGH

G.o.d is enough! thou, who in hope and fear Toilest through desert sands of life, sore tried, Climb, trustful, over death's black ridge, for near The bright wells s.h.i.+ne; thou wilt be satisfied.

G.o.d doth suffice! O thou, the patient one, Who puttest faith in him, and none beside, Bear yet thy load; under the setting sun The glad tents gleam; thou wilt be satisfied