Chapter 116
--Bessie Pegg MacLaughlin.
Though the mills of G.o.d grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
--Tr. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
DAILY BREAD
I pray, with meek hands on my breast, "Thy will be done, thy kingdom come,"
But shouldst thou call my dear ones home Should I still say, "'Tis best; Thy will be done"?
I cannot tell. I probe my heart With sharpest instruments of pain, And listen if the sweet refrain Still wells up through the smart-- "Thy will be done!"
I cannot tell. I yield the quest, Content if only day by day My G.o.d shall give me grace to say, "Father, thou knowest best; Thy will be done!"
He gives no strength for coming ill, Until its advent. Then he rolls His love in on his waiting souls, Sure of their sweet "Thy will, Thy will be done!"
"Give us this day our daily bread"-- So prayed the Christ, and so will I; Father, my daily bread supply, Or, if I go unfed, "Thy will be done!"
--Caroline Atherton Mason.
APPROACHES
When thou turnest away from ill Christ is this side of thy hill.
When thou turnest towards good Christ is walking in thy wood.
When thy heart says, "Father, pardon!"
Then the Lord is in thy garden.
When stern duty wakes to watch Then his hand is on the latch.
But when hope thy song doth rouse Then the Lord is in the house.
When to love is all thy wit Christ doth at thy table sit.
When G.o.d's will is thy heart's pole Then is Christ thy very soul.
--George Macdonald.
SUBMISSION
But that thou art my wisdom, Lord, And both mine eyes are thine.
My mind would be extremely stirred For missing my design.
Were it not better to
Then should thy praises with me grow, And share in my degree.
But when I thus dispute and grieve I do resume my sight; And, pilfering what I once did give, Disseize thee of thy right.
How know I, if thou shouldst me raise.
That I should then raise thee?
Perhaps great places and thy praise Do not so well agree.
Wherefore unto my gift I stand; I will no more advise; Only do thou lend me a hand, Since thou hast both mine eyes.
--George Herbert.
YOUTH'S WARNING
Beware, exulting youth, beware, When life's young pleasures woo, That ere you yield yon shrine your heart, And keep your conscience true!
For sake of silver spent to-day Why pledge to-morrow's gold?
Or in hot blood implant remorse, To grow when blood is cold?
If wrong you do, if false you play, In summer among the flowers, You must atone, you must repay, In winter among the showers.
To turn the balances of heaven Surpa.s.ses mortal power; For every white there is a black, For every sweet a sour.
For every up there is a down, For every folly shame, And retribution follows guilt As burning follows flame.
If wrong you do, if false you play, In summer among the flowers, You must atone, you must repay In winter among the showers.
--George Macdonald.
THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS
I love thy skies, thy sunny mists, Thy fields, thy mountains h.o.a.r, Thy wind that bloweth where it lists; Thy will, I love it more.
I love thy hidden truth to seek All round, in sea, on sh.o.r.e; The arts whereby like G.o.ds we speak; Thy will to me is more.
I love thy men and women, Lord, The children round thy door, Calm thoughts that inward strength afford; Thy will, O Lord, is more.
But when thy will my life shall hold, Thine to the very core, The world which that same will did mold I shall love ten times more.
--George Macdonald.
No child of man may perish ere his time arrives; A thousand arrows pierce him and he still survives; But when the moment fixed in heaven's eternal will Comes round, a single blade of yielding gra.s.s may kill.
--From the Mahabharata, tr. by Frederic Rowland Marvin.
G.o.d gives to man the power to strike or miss you; It is not thy foe who did the thing.
The arrow from the bow may seem to issue, But we know an archer drew the string.
--Saadi, tr. by James Freeman Clarke.