Chapter 47
My hope I cannot measure, My path to life is free, My Saviour has my treasure, And he will walk with me.
--Anna Let.i.tia Waring.
CALM
I stand upon the Mount of G.o.d With sunlight in my soul; I hear the storms in vales beneath, I hear the thunders roll.
But I am calm with thee, my G.o.d, Beneath these glorious skies; And to the height on which I stand, No storms, nor clouds, can rise.
O, THIS is life! O, this is joy!
My G.o.d, to find thee so; Thy face to see, thy voice to hear, And all thy love to know.
--Horatius Bonar.
DIVINE PEACE
Peace upon peace, like wave upon wave, This the portion that I crave; The peace of G.o.d which pa.s.seth thought, The peace of Christ which changeth not.
Peace like the river's gentle flow, Peace like the morning's silent glow, From day to day, in love supplied, An endless and unebbing tide.
Peace flowing on without decrease, From him who is our joy and peace, Who, by his reconciling blood, Hath made the sinner's peace with G.o.d.
Peace through the night and through the day, Peace through the windings of our way; In pain, and toil, and weariness, A deep and everlasting peace.
O King of peace, this peace bestow Upon a stranger here below; O G.o.d of peace, thy peace impart, To every sad and troubled heart.
Peace from the Father and the Son, Peace from the Spirit, all his own; Peace that shall never more be lost, Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
--Horatius Bonar.
A QUIET HEART
Quiet, Lord, my froward heart: Make me teachable and mild; Upright, simple, free from art; Make me as a weaned child, From distrust and envy free, Pleased with all that pleaseth thee.
What thou shalt to-day provide Let me as a child receive; What to-morrow may betide Calmly to thy wisdom leave.
'Tis enough that thou wilt care: Why should I the burthen bear?
As a little child relies On a care beyond his own; Knows he's neither strong
--John Newton.
REST WHERE YOU ARE
When, spurred by tasks unceasing or undone, You would seek rest afar, And can not, though repose be rightly won-- Rest where you are.
Neglect the needless; sanctify the rest; Move without stress or jar; With quiet of a spirit self-possessed Rest where you are.
Not in event, restriction, or release, Not in scenes near or far, But in ourselves are restlessness or peace, Rest where you are.
Where lives the soul lives G.o.d; his day, his world, No phantom mists need mar; His starry nights are tents of peace unfurled: Rest where you are.
BE ALL AT REST
Be all at rest, my soul toward G.o.d; from him comes my salvation.
Psa. 62. 1.
"Be all at rest, my soul." Oh! blessed secret Of the true life that glorifies thy Lord: Not always doth the busiest soul best serve him, But he who resteth on his faithful word.
"Be all at rest."--"let not your heart be rippled,"
For tiny wavelets mar the image fair Which the still pool reflects of heaven's glory-- And thus the Image he would have you bear.
"Be all at rest,"--for rest is highest service; To the still heart G.o.d doth his secrets tell: Thus shall thou learn to wait, and watch, and labor, Strengthened to bear, since Christ in thee doth dwell.
For what is service but the life of Jesus Lived through a vessel of earth's fragile clay; Loving and giving; poured forth for others; "A living sacrifice" from day to day?
And what shall meet the deep unrest around thee But the calm peace of G.o.d that filled his breast?
For still a living voice must call the weary To him who said, "Come unto me and rest."
Therefore "be all at rest, my soul," toward him, If thou a revelation of the Lord would'st be; For in the quiet confidence that never doubts him, Others his truth and faithfulness shall see.
"Be all at rest," for rest alone becometh The soul that casts on him its every care; "Be all at rest"--so shall thy life proclaim him A G.o.d who worketh and who heareth prayer.
"Be all at rest"--so shalt thou be an answer To those who question, "Who is G.o.d, and where?"
For G.o.d is rest, and where he dwells is stillness, And they who dwell in him that rest shall share.
--Freda Hanbury Allen.
REST
Sweet is the pleasure Itself cannot spoil!
Is not true leisure One with true toil?
Thou that wouldst taste it, Still do thy best; Use it, not waste it, Else 'tis no rest.
Wouldst behold beauty Near thee all round?
Only hath duty Such a sight found.
Rest is not quitting The busy career; Rest is the fitting Of self to its sphere.
'Tis the brook's motion, Clear without strife, Fleeing to ocean After its life.
Deeper devotion Nowhere hath knelt; Fuller emotion Heart never felt.