Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul. Various
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For the heart grows rich in giving—
All its wealth is living gain;
Seeds which mildew in the garner
Scattered fill with gold the plain.
Is thy burden hard and heavy?
Do thy steps drag wearily?
Help to bear thy brother's burden;
God will bear both it and thee.
Numb and weary on the mountains,
Wouldst thou sleep amidst the snow?
Chafe that frozen form beside thee,
And together both shall glow.
Art thou stricken in life's battle?
Many wounded round thee moan:
Lavish on their wounds thy balsam,
And that balm shall heal thine own.
Is thy heart a well left empty?
None but God the void can fill.
Nothing but the ceaseless Fountain
Can its ceaseless longings still.
Is the heart a living power?
Self-entwined its strength sinks low.
It can only live in loving,
And by serving love will grow.
———
BY DOING GOOD WE LIVE
A certain wise man, deeply versed
In all the learning of the East,
Grew tired in spirit, and athirst
From life to be released.
So to Eliab, holy man
Of God he came: "Ah, give me, friend,
The herb of death, that now the span
Of my vain life may end."
Eliab gently answered: "Ere
The soul may free itself indeed,
This herb of healing thou must bear
To seven men in need;
"When thou hast lightened each man's grief,
And brought him hope and joy again,
Return; nor shalt thou seek relief
At Allah's hands in vain."
The wise man sighed, and humbly said:
"As Allah willeth, so is best."
And with the healing herb he sped
Away upon his quest.
And as he journeyed on, intent
To serve the sorrowing in the land
On deeds of love and mercy bent,
The herb bloomed in his hand,
And through his pulses shot a fire
Of strength and hope and happiness;
His heart leaped with a glad desire
To live and serve and bless.
Lord of all earthly woe and need,
Be this, life's flower, mine!
To love, to comfort, and to heal—
Therein is life divine!
—Josephine Troup.
———
FOR STRENGTH WE ASK
For strength we ask
For the ten thousand times repeated task,
The endless smallnesses of every day.
No, not to lay
My life down in the cause I cherish most,
That were too easy. But, whate'er it cost,
To fail no more
In gentleness toward the ungentle, nor
In love toward the unlovely, and to give,
Each day I live,
To every hour with outstretched hand, its meed
Of not-to-be-regretted thought and deed.
—Agnes Ethelwyn Wetherald.
———
MARTHA OR MARY?
I cannot choose; I should have liked so much
To sit at Jesus' feet—to feel the touch
Of his kind gentle hand upon my head
While drinking in the gracious words he said.
And yet to serve Him!—Oh, divine employ—
To minister and give the Master joy;
To bathe in coolest springs his weary feet,
And wait upon Him while He sat at meat!
Worship or service—which? Ah, that is best
To which he calls us, be it toil or rest;
To labor for Him in life's busy stir,
Or seek His feet, a silent worshiper.
—Caroline Atherton Mason.
———
This is the gospel of labor—ring it, ye bells of the kirk—
The Lord of Love came down from above to live with the men who work.
This is the rose that he planted, here in the thorn-cursed soil;
Heaven is blest with perfect rest, but the blessing of earth is toil.
—Henry van Dyke.
———
MARTHA
Yes, Lord, Yet some must serve!
Not all with tranquil heart,
Even at Thy dear feet,
Wrapped in devotion sweet,
May sit apart!
Yes, Lord! Yet some must bear
The burden of the day,
Its labor and its heat,
While others at Thy feet
May muse and pray.
Yes, Lord! Yet some must do
Life's daily task-work; some
Who fain would sing must toil
Amid earth's dust and moil,
While lips are dumb!
Yes, Lord! Yet man must earn
And woman bake the bread;
And some must watch and wake
Early for others' sake,
Who pray instead!
Yes, Lord! Yet even thou
Hast need of earthly care;
I bring the bread and wine
To