Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul Part 61

G.o.d of the hairy bee, Help me to suck deep joys from all I see.

G.o.d of the spider's lace, Let me, from mine own heart, unwind such grace.

G.o.d of the lily's cup, Fill me! I hold this empty chalice up.

G.o.d of the sea-gull's wing, Bear me above each dark and turbulent thing.

G.o.d of the watchful owl, Help me to see at midnight, like this fowl.

G.o.d of the antelope, Teach me to scale the highest crags of Hope.

G.o.d of the eagle's nest, Oh, let me make my eyrie near thy breast!

G.o.d of the burrowing mole, Let cold earth have no terrors for my soul.

G.o.d of the chrysalis, Grant that my grave may be a cell of bliss.

G.o.d of the b.u.t.terfly, Help me to vanquish Death, although I die.

--Frederic Lawrence Knowles.

O JESUS CHRIST, GROW THOU IN ME

O Jesus Christ, grow thou in me, And all things else recede!

My heart be daily nearer thee, From sin be daily freed.

Each day let Thy supporting might My weakness still embrace; My darkness vanish in thy light, Thy life my death efface.

In thy bright beams which on me fall Fade every evil thought; That I am nothing, Thou art all, I would be daily taught.

More of thy glory let me see, Thou holy, wise and true, I would thy living image be, In joy and sorrow too.

Fill me with gladness from above, Hold me by strength divine; Lord, let the glow of thy great love Through my whole being s.h.i.+ne.

Make this poor self grow less and less; Be Thou my life and aim; Oh, make me daily through thy grace More meet to bear thy name!

Let faith in Thee and in thy might My every motive move; Be thou alone my soul's delight, My pa.s.sion and my love.

--Henry B. Smith.

DAY BY DAY

Looking upward every day, Suns.h.i.+ne on our faces, Pressing onward every day Toward the heavenly places; Growing every day in awe, For thy name is holy; Learning every day to love With a love more lowly.

Walking every day more close To our Elder Brother; Growing every day more true Unto one another; Every day more gratefully Kindnesses receiving, Every day more readily Injuries forgiving.

Leaving every day behind Something which might hinder; Running swifter every day, Growing purer, kinder-- Lord, so pray we every day; Hear us in thy pity, That we enter in at last To the holy city.

--Mary Butler.

Better to have the poet's heart than brain, Feeling than song; but, better far than both, To be a song, a music of G.o.d's making.

Or but a table on which G.o.d's finger of flame, In words harmonious of triumphant verse, That mingles joy and sorrow, sets down clear That out of darkness he hath called the light.

It may be voice to such is after given To tell the mighty tale to other worlds.

--George Macdonald.

FREE FROM SIN

The bird let loose in eastern skies, When hastening fondly home, Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies Where idle warblers roam; But high she shoots through air and light Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, G.o.d, from every care And stain of pa.s.sion free, Aloft, through Virtue's purer air, To hold my course to thee!

No sin to cloud, no lure to stay My soul, as home she springs; Thy suns.h.i.+ne on her joyful way, Thy freedom in her wings!

--Thomas Moore.

A PRAYER

O that mine eyes might closed be To what concerns me not to see; That deafness might possess mine ear To what concerns me not to hear; That truth my tongue might always tie From ever speaking foolishly; That no vain thought might ever rest Or be conceived within my breast; That by each deed and word and thought Glory may to my G.o.d be brought.

But what are wishes! Lord, mine eye On Thee is fixed; to Thee I cry!

Wash, Lord, and purify my heart, And make it clean in every part; And when 'tis clean, Lord, keep it, too, For that is more than I can do.

--Thomas Elwood, A. D. 1639.

THE ALTERED MOTTO

O 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 heaven, Deeper than the deepest sea, Lord, thy love at last hath conquered; Grant me now my supplication-- "None of self, and all of Thee."

--Theodore Monod.

INDWELLING

O dwell in me, my Lord, That I in thee may dwell; Fulfill thy tender word, That thy evangels tell; In me Thou, I in thee, By thy sweet courtesy.

But wilt thou my guest be, In this poor heart of mine?

Thy guest? Is this for me In that pure heart of thine?