Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul Part 76

Deep and awful are thy counsels; High and glorious is thy throne; Reigning o'er thy vast dominion, Thou art G.o.d and thou alone.

In thy wondrous condescension Thou hast stooped to raise our race; Thou hast given to us a Saviour, Full of goodness and of grace.

By his blood we are forgiven, By his intercession free, By his love we rise to glory There to reign eternally.

G.o.d of Power--we bow before thee; G.o.d of Wisdom--thee we praise; G.o.d of Love--so kind and tender, We would praise thee all our days.

Praise to thee--our loving Father; Praise to thee--redeeming Son; Praise to thee--Almighty Spirit; Praise to thee--Thou Holy One.

--John White.

AFTER ALL

We take our share of fretting, Of grieving and forgetting; The paths are often rough and steep, and heedless feet may fall; But yet the days are cheery, And night brings rest when weary And somehow this old planet is a good world after all.

Though sharp may be our trouble, The joys are more than double, The brave surpa.s.s the cowards and the leal are like a wall To guard their dearest ever, To fail the feeblest never; And somehow this old earth remains a bright world after all.

There's always love that's caring, And s.h.i.+elding and forbearing, Dear woman's love to hold us close and keep our hearts in thrall.

There's home to share together In calm or stormy weather, And while the hearth-flame burns it is a good world after all.

The lisp of children's voices, The chance of happy choices, The bugle sounds of hope and faith, through fogs and mists that call; The heaven that stretches o'er us, The better days before us, They all combine to make this earth a good world after all.

--Margaret Elizabeth Sangster.

Sound an anthem in your sorrows, Build a fortress of your fears; Throw a halo round your trials, Weave a rainbow of your tears.

Never mind if shadows darken, Never fear though foes be strong; Lift your heads and shout hosannah!

Praise the Lord, it won't be long.

BE OF GOOD CHEER

G.o.d is near thee, Christian; cheer thee, Rest in him, sad soul; He will keep thee when around thee Billows roll.

Calm thy sadness, look in gladness To thy Friend on high; Faint and weary pilgrim, cheer thee; Help is nigh.

Mark the sea-bird wildly wheeling Through the stormy skies; G.o.d defends him, G.o.d attends him When he cries.

Fare thee onward through the suns.h.i.+ne Or through wintry blast; Fear forsake thee; G.o.d will take thee Home at last.

PESSIMIST AND OPTIMIST

This one sits s.h.i.+vering in Fortune's smile, Taking his joy with bated, doubtful breath.

This one, gnawed by hunger, all the while Laughs in the teeth of death.

--Thomas Bailey Aldrich.

PRAISE WAITETH FOR THEE

They stand, the regal mountains, with crowns of spotless snow, Forever changeless, grand, sublime, while ages come and go!

Each day the morning cometh in through the eastern gate, With trailing robes of pink and gold; yet still they watch and wait For that more glorious morning, till that glad message sounds-- "Lift up your heads, ye gates of G.o.d! the King of glory comes!"

And so they stand o'erlooking earth's trouble, pain and sin, And wait the call to lift their gates and let the King come in.

O calm, majestic mountains! O everlasting hills!

Beside your patient watch how small seem all life's joys and ills!

Beyond, the restless ocean, mysterious, vast, and dim, Whose changeful waves forever chant their grand triumphal hymn.

Now tempest-lashed and raging, with deep and hungry roar, The foam-capped billows dash themselves in anger on the sh.o.r.e,

Now wavelets ripple gently along the quiet strand, While summer's suns.h.i.+ne broodeth soft o'er all the sea and land.

O mighty waves! as chainless, as free, as birds that skim!

There's One who rules the stormy sea--thy song is all of him.

And so in the shadowy forest the birds sing loud and sweet From swaying boughs where breezes rock their little broods to sleep.

The golden cups of the cowslip spring from the mossy sod, And the sweet blue violet blooms alone--just for itself and G.o.d.

It is aye the same old lesson, from mountain, wood, and sea, The old, old story, ever new, and wondrous grand to me-- Of One who holds the waters in the hollow of his hand; Whose presence shone from mountain top in that far eastern land.

"The groves are G.o.d's own temples"; the wild birds sing his praise; And every flower in the forest dim its humble tribute pays; For G.o.d loves all his creatures, however weak and small; His grandest works give praise to him, for he is Lord of all.

We cannot make bargains for blisses, Nor catch them like fishes in nets; And sometimes the thing our life misses Helps more than the thing which it gets.

For good lieth not in pursuing, Nor gaining of great nor of small, But just in the doing, and doing As we would be done by is all.

--Alice Cary.

DON'T TAKE IT TO HEART

There's many a trouble Would break like a bubble, And into the waters of Lethe depart, Did we not rehea.r.s.e it, And tenderly nurse it, And give it a permanent place in the heart.

There's many a sorrow Would vanish to-morrow Were we but willing to furnish the wings; So sadly intruding, And quietly brooding, It hatches out all sorts of horrible things.

How welcome the seeming Of looks that are beaming Whether one's wealthy or whether one's poor; Eyes bright as a berry, Cheeks red as a cherry, The groan and the curse and the heartache can cure.

Resolve to be merry, All worry to ferry Across the famed waters which bid us forget, And no longer fearful, But happy and cheerful, We feel life has much that's worth living for yet.

ALTHOUGH--YET

Away! my unbelieving fear!

Fear shall in me no more have place; My Saviour doth not yet appear, He hides the brightness of his face, But shall I therefore let him go, And basely to the tempter yield?

No, in the strength of Jesus, no; I never will give up my s.h.i.+eld.

Although the vine its fruit deny, Although the olive yield no oil, The withering fig-trees droop and die, The fields elude the tiller's toil.