Poetry Archives

Grace be with them that love our Lord Jesus Christ in
sincerity.—Ephesians 6:24.


Thou saddened one whose longing eyes
  Seek quickening thoughts to glean,
Whose views of Christ, the Heavenly prize,
  Clouds often veer between,
That rapture which may be expressed
  By others constantly
Is not thine own; in truth confessed,
  Where is the mystery?

Ask now these questions of thy soul:
  My heart, is it sincere?
Do I his holy name extol,
  And is He truly dear?
Like Peter can I, too, record
  And urge his earnest plea,
“Thou knowest all things, gracious Lord;
  Thou knowest I love Thee”?

There is no music like his voice:
  To this can’st thou attest?
No message makes thee so rejoice
  As “Come to me and rest”?
If there’s been left within thine heart
  By word or deed a thorn,
Can prayer extract the cruel dart
  And heal it ere the morn?

Does prayer cast out disquietude
  And every bitter thought;
All hate and enmity exclude
  By Love with patience fraught?
Or, if perchance there may be found
  A hurt that festers still,
Is this the balm that soothes the wound—
  “’Twas needed; ’tis God’s will”?

Is there a saint, however poor,
  However lowly born,
That earthly treasure could allure
  Thee to mistreat or scorn?
These queries, are they answered well?
  Then press with joy toward Heaven,
Filled with that peace tongue cannot tell,
  The sense of sin forgiven.

Accept your Saviour’s proffered rest!
  Behold! there’s grace for thee;
All those who love Him now are blest,—
  Love in sincerity.