Questions & Answers
More steadfast than the mountains are, More boundless than the sea, Compassionate than mother-love, Is love of God for thee; More gracious than the clear sunlight Upon the dewy rose, More restful than the warm hearth-glow Of home, at daylight's close. Know then, this love enfolds thee now, Protects thee with its care; Its grace and tenderness divine Attend thee everywhere.
Teach me Thy will, that I may know How best to follow Thee, In storm or shine, that I may go The way Thou hast for me. Give me the faith I need to climb Earth's steep and rugged way, That I may hear the perfect chime Of Love's immortal lay.
We need not fear that Truth will die! In ages past, nor you nor I Stood by to watch it fall or stand; But still our God's sustaining hand Made sure it never fell! Oh, what a comfort just to know, That on through ages as we go, God's truth makes safe each darksome turn, Where roads may meet, or hatred burn, And men seem near to hell! The word means much; it makes full plain That aching hearts, all earthly pain, But seem—because we know not Love, Nor lift our eyes to look above, Where shines the light for all! Oh, weary wanderer on earth,— Whate'er the time you came to birth,— Man always was, in God, complete; Whose law has never known defeat, Nor change, nor great, nor small!
Fill your eyes with heaven's smile; Let its welcome well attend Every stranger, foe, or friend, Who would come to rest awhile. Fill your heart with heaven's song, That its pulsing may be heard In your every spoken word, That the feeble may be strong.
"Showers of blessing," weary pilgrim, "Showers of blessing" is the vow; God hath spoken it, my brother; Search and find them here and now. Does thy day seem fraught with shadow, And thy step go forth with doubt? Just before thee wait His blessings, And His love is round about.
Thy grace, O loving Father, Thou dost give, As to the thirsty flower the raindrops cool, And by Thy precepts teach us how to live. Thy hand will lead; Thy love will guard us still.
A little flicker at the first it seems, As when a candle in a draft is set; Then, as the door is shut on all material sense, A steadier flame illumes my life. The dimness fades, the darkness I forget; Gone the black shadows which before had wrapped me round, For I the light of all the world have found.
Reaping you must do, or ever you can sow,— Gladness must be yours, or ever you can show That happiness is fruitfulness from good seed in good soil; 'T was some one loved and blessed you with the sowing, and its toil, Hence you must reap and winnow good or ever you can sow. Keeping must be done, or ever you can give,— The blessing you must take that you may truly live! By fathers brave and mothers dear how much good seed was sown; From heaven's grace came kindly showers, and so the seed has grown; By reaping then enrich yourself or ever you can give.
"Man is not made to till the soil,"* But to express God's finished plan; 'T is not God's will that he should toil,— Dominion is God's gift to man. Look up! the fields with grain are white, Prepared by Love—were never bare.
Let me not say, "Thy will be done," And bow my head in meek submission, Feeling the chastening of One Invisible, whose cold decision Withholds the substance of my sweetest dreaming, Charging that prayer like mine is unbeseeming. O God of love, "Thy will be done"! For all Thy will is love revealing, And, knowing Thee, I need not shun Thy wisdom, when before Thee kneeling, But lift my heart in glad assurance, learning That all is well, where Love abides, discerning.