Poems with Power to Strengthen the Soul

by Unknown

GOD'S CARE

Not a brooklet floweth

Onward to the sea,

Not a sunbeam gloweth

On its bosom free,

Not a seed unfoldeth

To the glorious air,

But our Father holdeth

It within his care.

Not a floweret fadeth,

Not a star grows dim,

Not a cloud o'ershadeth,

But 'tis marked by him.

Dream not that thy gladness

God doth fail to see;

Think not in thy sadness

He forgetteth thee.

Not a tie is broken,

Not a hope laid low,

Not a farewell spoken,

But our God doth know.

Every hair is numbered,

Every tear is weighed

In the changeless balance

Wisest Love has made.

Power eternal resteth

In his changeless hand;

Love immortal hasteth

Swift at his command,

Faith can firmly trust him

In the darkest hour,

For the keys she holdeth

To his love and power.

———

"I WILL ABIDE IN THINE HOUSE"

Among so many can he care?

Can special love be everywhere?

A myriad homes—a myriad ways—

And God's eye over every place?

Over; but in? The world is full;

A grand omnipotence must rule;

But is there life that doth abide

With mine own, loving, side by side?

So many, and so wide abroad;

Can any heart have all of God?

From the great spaces vague and dim,

May one small household gather him?

I asked; my soul bethought of this:

In just that very place of his

Where he hath put and keepeth you,

God hath no other thing to do.

—Adeline Dutton Train Whitney.

———

CONSTANT CARE

How gentle God's commands!

How kind his precepts are!

Come, cast your burdens on the Lord,

And trust his constant care.

Beneath his watchful eye

His saints securely dwell;

That hand which bears all nature up

Shall guard his children well.

Why should this anxious load

Press down your weary mind?

Haste to your heavenly Father's throne

And sweet refreshment find.

His goodness stands approved,

Unchanged from day to day;

I'll drop my burden at his feet,

And bear a song away.

—Philip Doddridge.

———

THOU KNOWEST

Thou knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow

Of the sad heart that comes to thee for rest.

Cares of to-day and burdens for to-morrow,

Blessings implored, and sins to be confest,

I come before thee, at thy gracious word,

And lay them at thy feet. Thou knowest, Lord!

Thou knowest all the past—how long and blindly

On the dark mountains the lost wanderer strayed,

How the good Shepherd followed, and how kindly

He bore it home upon his shoulders laid,

And healed the bleeding wounds, and soothed the pain,

And brought back life, and hope, and strength again.

Thou knowest all the present—each temptation,

Each toilsome duty, each foreboding fear;

All to myself assigned of tribulation,

Or to belovèd ones than self more dear!

All pensive memories, as I journey on,

Longings for sunshine and for music gone!

Thou knowest all the future—gleams of gladness

By stormy clouds too quickly overcast—

Hours of sweet fellowship and parting sadness,

And the dark river to be crossed at last:

Oh, what could confidence and hope afford

To tread this path, but this—Thou knowest, Lord!

Thou knowest not alone as God—all-knowing—

As man our mortal weakness thou hast proved

On earth; with purest sympathies o'erflowing,

O Saviour, thou hast wept, and thou hast loved.

And love and sorrow still to thee may come

And find a hiding-place, a rest, a home.

Therefore I come, thy gentle call obeying,

And lay my sins and sorrows at thy feet;

On everlasting strength my weakness staying,

Clothed in thy robe of righteousness complete.

Then rising, and refreshed, I leave thy throne,

And follow on to know as I am known!

———

A GREAT DIFFERENCE

Men lose their ships, the eager things

To try their luck at sea,

But none can tell, by note or count,

How many there may be.

One turneth east, another south—

They never come again,

And then we know they must have sunk,

But neither how nor when.

God sends his happy birds abroad—

"They're less than ships," say we;

No moment passes but he knows

How many there should be.

One buildeth high, another low,

With just a bird's light care—

If only one, perchance, doth fall,

God knoweth when and where.

———

HE CARETH FOR YOU

If I could only surely know

That all these things that tire me so

Were noticed by my Lord.

The pang that cuts me like a knife,

The lesser pains of daily life,

The noise, the weariness, the strife,

What peace it would afford!

I wonder if he really shares

In all my little human cares,

This mighty King of kings.

If he who guides each blazing star

Through realms of boundless space afar

Without confusion, sound or jar,

Stoops to these petty things.

It seems to me, if sure of this,

Blent with each ill would come such bliss

That I might covet pain,

And deem whatever brought to me

The loving thought of Deity,

And sense of Christ's sweet sympathy,

No loss, but richest gain.

Dear Lord, my heart hath not a doubt

That thou dost compass me about

With sympathy divine.

The love for me once crucified

Is not a love to leave my side,

But waiteth ever to divide

Each smallest care of mine.

———

MOMENT BY MOMENT

Never a trial that He is not there;

Never a burden that He doth not bear;

Never a sorrow that He doth not share.

Moment by moment I'm under his care.

Never a heartache, and never a groan,

Never a tear-drop, and never a moan,

Never a danger but there, on the throne,

Moment by moment, He thinks of his own.

Never a weakness that He doth not feel;

Never a sickness that He cannot heal.

Moment by moment, in woe or in weal,

Jesus, my Saviour, abides with me still.

—Daniel W. Whittle.

———

There's a divinity that shapes our ends

Rough-hew them how we will.

—William Shakespeare.

———

EVENING HYMN

It is the evening hour,

And thankfully,

Father, thy weary child

Has come to thee.

I lean my aching head

Upon thy breast,

And there, and only there,

I am at rest.

Thou knowest all my life,

Each petty sin,

Nothing is hid from thee

Without, within.

All that I have or am

Is wholly thine,

So is my soul at peace,

For thou art mine.

To-morrow's dawn may find

Me here, or there;

It matters little, since thy love

Is everywhere!

———

THE BELIEVER'S HERITAGE

No care can come where God doth guard;

No ill befall whom he doth keep;

In safety hid, of trouble rid,

I lay me down in peace and sleep.

I wholly love thy holy name;

I hail with glee thy glorious will;

Where'er I go, 'tis joy to know

That thou, my King, art near me still.

Thy power immense, consummate, grand,

Thy wisdom, known to thee alone,

Thy perfect love, all thought above,

Make me a sharer in thy throne.

With thee abiding none can fear,

Nor lack, of every good possessed;

Thy grace avails, whate'er assails,

And I in thee am fully blest.

Then leap, my heart, exultant, strong,

Cast every doubt and weight away;

Give thanks and praise to God always,

For he will guide to perfect day!

—James Mudge.

———

"HE CARETH FOR THEE"

What can it mean? Is it aught to him

That the nights are long and the days are dim?

Can he be touched by griefs I bear

Which sadden the heart and whiten the hair?

Around his throne are eternal calms,

And strong, glad music of happy psalms,

And bliss unruffled by any strife.

How can he care for my poor life?

And yet I want him to care for me

While I live in this world where the sorrows be;

When the lights die down on the path I take,

When strength is feeble, and friends forsake,

When love and music, that once did bless,

Have left me to silence and loneliness,

And life's song changes to sobbing prayers—

Then my heart cries out for God who cares.

When shadows hang o'er me the whole day long,

And my spirit is bowed with shame and wrong;

When I am not good, and the deeper shade

Of conscious sin makes my heart afraid;

And the busy world has too much to do

To stay in its course to help me through,

And I long for a Saviour—can it be

That the God of the Universe cares for me?

Oh, wonderful story of deathless love!

Each child is dear to that heart above;

He fights for me when I cannot fight;

He comforts me in the gloom of night;

He lifts the burden, for he is strong;

He stills the sigh and awakes the song;

The sorrow that bowed me down he bears,

And loves and pardons because he cares.

Let all who are sad take heart again;

We are not alone in hours of pain;

Our Father stoops from his throne above

To soothe and quiet us with his love.

He leaves us not when the storm is high,

And we have safety, for he is nigh.

Can it be trouble which he doth share?

O rest in peace, for the Lord does care.

———

CAST THY BURDEN ON THE LORD

Thou who art touched with feeling of our woes,

Let me on thee my heavy burden cast!

My aching, anguished heart on thee repose.

Leaving with thee the sad mysterious past;

Let me submissive bow and kiss the rod;

Let me "be still, and know that thou art God."

Why should my harassed agitated mind

Go round and round this terrible event?

Striving in vain some brighter side to find,

Some cause why all this anguish has been sent?

Do I indeed that sacred truth believe—

Thou dost not willingly afflict and grieve?

My lovely gourd is withered in an hour!

I droop, I faint beneath the scorching sun;

My Shepherd, lead me to some sheltering bower;

There where thy little flock "lie down at noon";

Though of my dearest earthly joy bereft

Thou art my portion still; thou, thou, my God, art left.

—Charlotte Elliott.

———

Says God: "Who comes towards me an inch through doubtings dim,

In blazing light I do approach a yard towards him."

—Oriental, tr. by William Rounseville Alger.

———

The light of love is round His feet,

His paths are never dim;

And He comes nigh to us, when we

Dare not come nigh to Him.

—Frederick William Faber.

———

Not in our waking hours alone

His constancy and care are known,

But locked in slumber fast and deep

He giveth to us while we sleep.

—Frederick Lucian Hosmer.

———

HIS CARE

God holds the key of all unknown,

And I am glad.

If other hands should hold the key,

Or if he trusted it to me,

I might be sad.

What if to-morrow's cares were here

Without its rest?

I'd rather he unlock the day,

And as the hours swing open say,

"Thy will be best."

The very dimness of my sight

Makes me secure;

For groping in my misty way,

I feel his hand; I hear him say,

"My help is sure."

I cannot read his future plan,

But this I know:

I have the smiling of his face,

And all the refuge of his grace,

While here below.

Enough; this covers all my want,

And so I rest;

For what I cannot he can see,

And in his care I sure shall be

Forever blest.

—John Parker.

———

Forever, from the hand that takes

One blessing from us, others fall;

And soon or late our Father makes

His perfect recompense to all.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

Nothing pays but God,

Served—in work obscure done honestly,

Or vote for truth unpopular, or faith maintained

To ruinous convictions.

—James Russell Lowell.

———

He did God's will, to him all one,

If on the earth or in the sun.

—Robert Browning.

———

I am

Part of that Power, not understood,

Which always wills the bad

And always works the good.

(Mephistopheles, in Faust.)

—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

———

I have no answer, for myself or thee,

Save that I learned beside my mother's knee:

"All is of God that is, and is to be;

And God is good." Let this suffice us still,

Resting in childlike trust upon his will

Who moves to his great ends unthwarted by the ill.

—John Greenleaf Whittier.

———

He knows, he loves, he cares,

Nothing his truth can dim;

He gives his very best to those

Who leave the choice to him.

———

No help! nay, it is not so!

Though human help be far, thy God is nigh.

Who feeds the ravens hears his children's cry;

He's near thee wheresoe'er thy footsteps roam,

And he will guide thee, light thee, help thee home.

———

God sees me though I see him not;

I know I shall not be forgot;

For though I be the smallest dot,

It is his mercy shapes my lot.

—From the Scandinavian, tr. by Frederic Rowland Marvin.

———

Teach me to answer still,

Whate'er my lot may be,

To all thou sendest me, of good or ill,

"All goeth as God will."

———

Dance, O my soul! 'tis God doth play;

His will makes music all the day;

That song which rings the world around

This heart of mine shall ever sound.

—James Mudge.

———

Let one more attest:

I have seen God's hand through a life time,

And all was for best.

—Robert Browning.

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