Questions & Answers
The children begged, I know not why, The story of the cross. And must I tell to such as these The pain of earthly anguishes, The sorrow and the loss? Such little hands that cross to bear, Such little feet to follow where The Son of Man had moved! O Son of Man, so greatly loved, How may I lead them gently there And, witness to thy word? And, on the mount of Calvary, How lift them up that they may see The message of their Lord? Yet hand in hand we climb the way To see what wondrous things we may And as we reach the height, we pray.
I know not, Love, whither Thou guidest me. The sunset's fire is palled in gathering clouds; Keen gusts race madly o'er the desolate sea, Lift the broad sail and strain the moaning shrouds; Behind, a frowning shadow, swift receding, The lifeless shore beholds us onward speeding.
To see the silver shining through the cloud, And heaven's blue when all our skies seem gray; To sing of sunshine when the storm is loud, And greet with gratitude each newborn day; To find a rainbow in the blinding rain, And springtime promise though the snow lie white; To sing of courage through the moment's pain, And hold one's gaze all steadfast to the light; To lift the burden from some sorrowing heart, Forgetting thus a while the load we bear; To hold each hour sacred, set apart, In which to prove God's tender, loving care; To bring the smiles again to tear-filled eyes, Sweet hope to hearts bowed down in heaviness— Is to discern the path where freedom lies, The path that leads to God, and happiness.
Peace is a tranquil starlight shining, Peace is a warm soft moonlight glow; Peace is God's love in hearts reflected; Peace is what all God's children know.
ON a morning long ago Earth was bright with sunrise glow; Forth upon a troubled quest Fared a king, distraught, oppressed. He who ruled supreme o'er men Hast'ning to the lions' den Cried with voice lamentably, Can thy God deliver thee? Still the worldlings' anxious thought Questions what God's hand hath wrought; Fearing now, as they did then, Still the query comes from men, Still the answer heals and cheers Down the vista of the years: God the beast controls, and He By His love delivers me.
More beautiful the beauty of the flower, More sweet the song of bird and hum of bee. More grand the lofty mountain range and peak, More blue the azure of the sky and sea, Because I know Thy spirit pure Doth walk with me and make secure, And all the good I say and do Thou dost protect, and tak'st me through The waves of sense, which dash and foam, And guid'st me on to Thy dear home.
Forsaking the far country, famine scourged, Weary of wanton waywardness and urged By wakened memories, he homeward turned To find again the love once lightly spurned. This youthful prodigal, so debonair, So strong before, eager alone to fare, Now undeceived, his course repentant took, A suppliant, with humble, downcast look.
Into the village he went— The village of Bethany, The Nazarene, the man of power, Of gentle dignity. And into her house did Martha receive him, Hastening to render with housewifely care Of the best she might give of service there.
We have been blind, O Lord, Though we have walked abroad; The veil of mortal sense hid from our eyes All that we might have seen, All that was good and fair. For us no sun of righteousness could rise, Nor might celestial glory fill the skies; For mortal sight sees not, is ever blind, Unconscious of the all-creative Mind, Unconscious of Thy universe, Men, blinded by disease and sin's dread curse.
Day by day and hour by hour, In His love, Sin and sickness have no power, In His love; When clouds of sense disperse and flee, Revealing heaven's pure light to me, I rest in peace and joy, and see Just His love. Month by month and year by year, In His love, All that's false will disappear, In His love; Then with perfect vision clear, Life and Truth and Love appear; I am content—my all is here, Just His love.