Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul Part 51

FOR DIVINE STRENGTH

Father, in thy mysterious presence kneeling, Fain would our souls feel all thy kindling love; For we are weak and need some deep revealing Of trust, and strength, and calmness from above.

Lord, we have wandered far through doubt and sorrow, And thou hast made each step an onward one; And we will ever trust each unknown morrow-- Thou wilt sustain us till its work is done.

In the heart's depths a peace serene and holy Abides; and when pain seems to have its will, Or we despair, O may that peace rise slowly Stronger than agony, and we be still!

Now, Father, now, in thy dear presence kneeling, Our spirits yearn to feel thy kindling love; Now make us strong, we need thy deep revealing, Of trust, and strength, and calmness from above.

--Samuel Johnson.

WHEN I AM WEAK THEN AM I STRONG

Half feeling our own weakness, We place our hands in Thine-- Knowing but half our darkness We ask for light divine.

Then, when Thy strong arm holds us, Our weakness most we feel, And thy love and light around us Our darkness must reveal.

Too oft, when faithless doubtings Around our spirits press, We cry, "Can hands so feeble Grasp such almightiness?"

While thus we doubt and tremble Our hold still looser grows; While on our darkness gazing Vainly thy radiance glows.

Oh, cheer us with Thy brightness, And guide us by thy hand, In thy light teach us light to see, In thy strength strong to stand.

Then though our hands be feeble, If they but touch thine arm, Thy light and power shall lead us, And keep us strong and calm.

A HUMBLE HEART

I would not ask Thee that my days Should flow quite smoothly on and on, Lest I should learn to love the world Too well, ere all my time was done.

I would not ask Thee that my work Should never bring me pain nor fear; Lest I should learn to work alone, And never wish thy presence near.

I would not ask Thee that my friends Should always kind and constant be; Lest I should learn to lay my faith In them alone, and not in thee.

But I would ask a humble heart, A changeless will to work and wake, A firm faith in Thy providence, The rest--'tis thine to give or take.

--Alfred Norris.

Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, Have ofttimes no connection. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.

Knowledge, a rude, unprofitable ma.s.s, The mere material with which Wisdom builds, Till smoothed, and squared, and fitted to its place, Does but enc.u.mber whom it seems to enrich.

Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much, Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.

--William Cowper.

Humble we must be if to heaven we go; High is the roof there; but the gate is low.

--Robert Herrick.

NOT MINE

It is not mine to run, with eager feet, Along life's crowded ways, my Lord to meet.

It is not mine to pour the oil and wine Or bring the purple robe and linen fine.

It is not mine to break at his dear feet The alabaster box of ointment sweet.

It is not mine to bear his heavy cross, Or suffer, for his sake, all pain and loss.

It is not mine to walk through valleys dim, Or climb far mountain heights alone with him.

He hath no need of me in grand affairs, Where fields are lost or crowns won unawares.

Yet, Master, if I may make one pale flower Bloom brighter, for thy sake, though one short hour;

If I in harvest fields where strong ones reap, May bind one golden sheaf for love to keep;

May speak one quiet word when all is still, Helping some fainting heart to bear thy will;

Or sing some high, clear song on which may soar Some glad soul heavenward, I ask no more.

--Julia Caroline Ripley Dorr.

Christ wants the best. He in the far-off ages Once claimed the firstling of the flock, the finest of the wheat; And still he asks his own with gentlest pleading To lay their highest hopes and brightest talents at his feet.

He'll not forget the feeblest service, humblest love; He only asks that of our stores we give to him the best we have.

PRAISE DEPRECATED

My sins and follies, Lord, by thee From others hidden are, That such good words are spoke of me As now and then I hear; For sure if others know me such, Such as myself I know, I should have been dispraised as much As I am praised now.

The praise, therefore, which I have heard, Delights not so my mind, As those things make my heart afeard Which in myself I find; And I had rather to be blamed, So I were blameless made, Than for much virtue to be famed When I no virtues had.

Though slanders to an innocent Sometimes do bitter grow, Their bitterness procures content, If clear himself he know.

And when a virtuous man hath erred If praised himself he hear, It makes him grieve and more afeard Than if he slandered were.

Lord, therefore make my heart upright, Whate'er my deeds do seem; And righteous rather in thy sight, Than in the world's esteem.

And if aught good appears to be In any act of mine, Let thankfulness be found in me, And all the praise be thine.

--George Wither (1588-1667).

One part, one little part, we dimly scan, Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream; Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan, If but that little part incongruous seem.

Nor is that part, perhaps, what mortals deem, Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise.

O then renounce that impious self-esteem That aims to trace the secrets of the skies; For thou art but of dust, be humble and be wise.

--James Beattie.