Poems by Rebekah Smith Part 15

With us, 'tis said, the judgment first begins; And we must soon be cleansed from all our sins.

We must let Jesus in. Our mighty foe Is ready to effect our overthrow.

With Christ we're safe; in conflict he'll unite, Help on to victory, and maintain the right.

The eye-salve, well applied, sheds light around, And all our secret faults and sins are found, To be confessed, while Jesus intercedes, And while for us his precious blood he pleads.

Though scarlet be our sins--of crimson dye-- If penitent, he'll not our suit deny.

He waits for full confession, which, when made, Whate'er our sin and guilt, he'll not upbraid.

He's ready to acquit and set us free, And will proclaim our perfect liberty.

He'll seal us his, and make us here his care; He'll fit us for his throne, and take us there.

He's cutting short his work in righteousness, And coming soon his waiting saints to bless.

When once he's left the mediatorial place, No ray of mercy lights our ruined race.

'Twill then be known, the offers we've refused, The blood-bought privileges that we've abused-- How must it sharpen every pang of guilt To think, for us the Saviour's blood was spilt;

To know we might have had our sins forgiven, And lived forever with the loved in Heaven.

In view of anguish deep we then must feel.

No wounds of sin may we here slightly heal.

Broad as th' offense, confession I will make, And all my dear, loved idol sins forsake.

Yes, glory be to G.o.d! the victory's gained, And self-denial shall be hence maintained.

'Twill take our all to buy the pure tried gold; And naught of earth can we in heart withhold.

A cheaper way I would not, could I, go; A dearer way no one can ever show.

I love the blessed way; it buoys me up; My Saviour's here, and with him I may sup.

I'll be content with nothing short of this; And this alone makes Heaven perpetual bliss.

Then let us make our hope and calling sure; And all our trials patiently endure.

They'll soon be o'er; our lives we'll not hold dear, And soon in glory with our Lord appear.

The Remnant Church.

There is a people coming up, with gifts and power divine, Whose holy influence will be felt, whose holy light will s.h.i.+ne; It will be known who do in truth, the solemn message heed, Such will be zealous and repent, becoming saints indeed.

Their love and union will increase, their interests will be one; They'll know that they are heirs of G.o.d, and joint heirs with his Son; They'll love G.o.d for his own dear sake, not that He's them forgiven; And truly "sin will be their h.e.l.l, and holiness their Heaven."

Their company will be the saints, and each will be so dear, They'll love to make a sacrifice to benefit them here.

They'll love for their Redeemer's sake; as answers face to face, So will their hearts while they in each, his lovely image trace.

This dread, dull sameness will not long among the saints bear sway, The glory in their midst will soon purge all the chaff away; Thus separated from the vile, the strong be stronger still; The great refres.h.i.+ng time is near, and all may come who will.

But, oh! some will not be refined, nor give their idols up; Such never will let Jesus in, nor with him ever sup.

They yet may linger round the sh.o.r.e, and think to get on board, But they must come to Heaven's terms; the standard can't be lowered.

Thrice happy they who're in the s.h.i.+p, though tossed with angry waves!

"Our Father's at the helm," and all who trust in him he saves; Those who in heart give up their all, lie pa.s.sive in his hand, He'll bring with safety into port, to their own promised land.

False Fame and True.

While men, our faults perceiving not, would move our fame to raise, How oft our natures weakly yield to flattery and praise, Oh! what in us should e'er excite our vanity and pride!

Or cause us not in lowliness, vain thoughts of self to hide?

Let deeds of charity and love in all our life abound; Philanthrophy fails not to go, where'er a sufferer's found, To seek the poor, degraded, low, the wicked and debased, Though his own name by slander's tongue, be ever thus defaced.

These are the jewels he would gain, this course would fain pursue; That he is not like them, he asks, to whom is glory due?

Who made us thus to differ here? who gives the strength and power To hold the victory over self, in dark temptation's hour?

Let him who thinks he stands take heed; this is the word to all; The strongest may be overcome, and through temptation fall.

Do we in higher circles move? are higher placed by birth?

No such distinction will be known, when moldering in the earth.

But deeds of kind benevolence will live when we are dead; The poor will think how they were clothed, and shared our daily bread; The once abandoned who've reformed beneath our fostering care, Will bless the day they ever lived our sympathies to share.

Such the remembrance I would have, alive or in my grave, To have been the humble instrument some sinking soul to save.

For this I turn from pleasure's scenes, to weep with those that weep; To strive their sufferings to a.s.suage, their confidence to keep.

Though on them glows the copper tint, though African their race, What matters these distinctions of their nation, lot, or place?

For oh! the highest joy of earth is comfort to impart To those who lie 'neath fortune's frowns, with sad and suffering heart.

Though hidden from the public view, unseen your acts of love, If heart and hand be clean and pure, their record lives above.

Let me thus seek my neighbor's good, thus helpless sufferers raise; Be this the glory of my fame; be deeds of love my praise.

Return unto the Lord.

Have you again become To appet.i.te a slave?

You've boasted victory here, Why sink beneath the wave?

You say, I have no hope, No strength within me lies, And sinking still, I fear I ne'er again shall rise.

My efforts all have failed, To keep the victory gained.

Where look for refuge now?

Or hope to be sustained?

A helpless sufferer, true, On confines of despair, While knowing there's no hope, If you continue there.