Eternal God, Whose Power Upholds

Eternal God, whose power upholds
Both flower and flaming star,
To whom there is no here nor there,
No time, no near nor far,
No alien race, no foreign shore,
No child unsought, unknown,
O, send us forth, Thy prophets true,
To make all lands Thine own!

O God of love, whose spirit wakes
In every human breast,
Whom love, and love alone, can know,
In whom all hearts find rest,
Help us to spread Thy gracious reign
Till greed and hate shall cease,
And kindness dwell in human hearts,
And all the earth find peace!

O God of truth, whom science seeks
And reverent souls adore,
Who lightest every earnest mind
Of every clime and shore,
Dispel the gloom of error's night,
Of ignorance and fear,
Until true wisdom from above
Shall make life's pathway clear!

O God of beauty, oft revealed
In dreams of human art,
In speech that flows to melody,
In holiness of heart;
Teach us to ban all ugliness
That blinds our eyes to Thee,
Till all shall know the loveliness
Of lives made fair and free.

O God of righteousness and grace,
Seen in the Christ, Thy Son,
Whose life and death reveal Thy face,
By whom Thy will was done,
Inspire Thy heralds of good news
To live Thy life divine,
Till Christ is formed in all mankind
And every land is Thine!

--Henry Hallam Tweedy

Knowledge Without Wisdom

The Eagle soars in the summit of Heaven,
The Hunter with his dogs pursues his circuit.
O perpetual revolution of configured stars,
O perpetual recurrence of determined seasons,
O world of spring and autumn, birth and dying!
The endless cycle of idea and action,
Endless invention, endless experiment,
Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word.
All our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance,
All our ignorance brings un nearer to death,
But nearness to death no nearer to God.
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of Heaven in twenty centuries
Bring us farther from God and nearer to the Dust.

I journeyed to London, to the timekept City,
Where the River flows, with foreign flotations.
There I was told: we have too many churches,
And too few chop-houses. There I was told
Let the vicars retire. Men do not need the Church
In the place where they work, but where they spend their Sundays.
In the City, we need no bells:
Let them waken the suburbs.
I journeyed to the suburbs, and there I was told:
We toil for six days, on the seventh we must motor
To Hindhead, or Maidenhead.
If the weather is foul we stay at home and read the papers,
In industrial districts, there I was told
Of economic laws.
In the pleasant countryside, there it seemed
That the country now is only fit for picnics.
And the church does not seem to be wanted
In country or in suburb; and in the town
Only for important weddings.

--T.S. Eliot, 1888-1965

Is This the Time to Halt?

Is this the time, O Church of Christ! to sound
Retreat? To arm with weapons cheap and
     blunt
The men and women who have borne the
     brunt
Of truth's fierce strife, and nobly held their
     ground?
Is this the time to halt, when all around
Horizons lift, new destinies confront,
Stern duties wait our nation, never wont
To play the laggard, when God's will was
     found?

No! rather, strengthen stakes and lengthen
     cords,
Enlarge thy plans and gifts, O thou elect,
And to thy kingdom come for such a time!
The earth with all its fullness is the Lord's.
Great things attempt for Him great things
     expect,
Whose love imperial is, whose power sublime.

--Charles Sumner Hoyt

On Entering A Chapel

Love built this shrine; these hallowed walls uprose
To give seclusion from the hurrying throng,
From tumult of the street, complaint and wrong,
From rivalry and strife, from taunt of foes--
If foes thou hast. On silent feet come in,
Bow low in penitence. Whoe'er thou art
Thou, too, hast sinned. Uplift in prayer thy heart.
Thy Father's blessing waiteth. Read within
This holy place, in pictured light portrayed,
The characters of worthies who, from years
Long past, still speak the message here displayed
In universal language not to fade.
Leave then thy burden, all thy cares and fears;
Faith, hope, and love are thine, for thou hast prayed.

--John Davidson, 1857-1909

Love's Strength

Measure thy life by loss instead of gain,
Not by the wine drunk, but the wine poured forth;
For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice,
And whoso suffers most hath most to give.
For labor, the common lot of man,
Is part of the kind Creator's plan;
And he is a king whose brow is wet
With the pearl-gemmed crown of honest sweat.
Some glorious day, this understood,
All toilers will be a brotherhood,
With brain or hand the purpose is one,
And the Master-workman, God's own Son.

--Author unknown

To Win The World

Would you win all the world for Christ?
  One way there is and only one;
You must live Christ from day to day,
  And see His will be done.

But who lives Christ must tread His way,
  Leave self and all the world behind,
Press ever up and on, and serve
  His kind with single mind.

No easy way,--rough--strewn with stones,
  And wearisome, the path He trod.
But His way is the only way
  That leads man back to God.

And lonesome oft, and often dark
  With shame, and outcastry, and scorn,
And, at the end, perchance a cross,
  And many a crown of thorn.

But His lone cross and crown of thorn
  Endure when crowns and empires fall.
The might of His undying love
  In dying conquered all.

Only by treading in His steps
  The all-compelling ways of Love,
Shall earth be won, and man made one
  With that Great Love above.

--John Oxenham, 1852-1941

Friendly Obstacles

For every hill I've had to climb,
  For every stone that bruised my feet,
For all the blood and sweat and grime,
  For blinding storms and burning heat,
My heart sings but a grateful song--
These were the things that made me strong!

For all the heartaches and the tears,
  For all the anguish and the pain,
For gloomy days and fruitless years,
  And for the hopes that lived in vain,
I do give thanks, for now I know
These were the things that helped me grow!

'Tis not the softer things of life
  Which stimulate man's will to strive;
But bleak adversity and strife
  Do most to keep man's will alive.
O'er rose-strewn paths the weaklings creep,
But brave hearts dare to climb the steep.

--Author unknown

Rest And Work

The camel, at the close of day,
  Kneels down upon the sandy plain
To have his burden lifted off,
  And rest to gain.

My soul, thou too, shouldst to thy knees
  When daylight draweth to a close,
And let thy Master lift thy load
  And grant repose.

Else how canst thou tomorrow meet,
  With all tomorrow's work to do,
If thou thy burden all the night
  Dost carry through?

The camel kneels at break of day
  To have his guide replace his load,
Then rises up anew to take
  The desert road.

So thou shouldst kneel at morning dawn,
  That God may give thee daily care,
Assured that He no load too great
  Will make thee bear.

--Anne Whitney

What Is Prayer?

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
  Uttered or unexpressed;
The motion of a hidden fire,
  That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
  The falling of a tear;
The upward glancing of an eye,
  When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech
  That infant lips can try;
Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach
  The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
  Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice,
  And cry, "Behold! He prays!"

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
  The Christian's native air;
His watchword at the gate of death--
  He enters heaven with prayer.

The saints in prayer appear as one
  In word and deed and mind;
Where with the Father and the Son
  Sweet fellowship they find.

Nor prayer is made by man alone:
  The Holy Spirit pleads;
And Jesus, on the eternal Throne,
  For sinners intercedes.

O Thou by whom we come to God--
  The Life, The Truth, the Way!
The path of prayer Thyself hast trod;
  Lord, teach us how to pray!

--James Montgomery, 1771-1854

Apprehension

     I do not fear
To walk the lonely road
Which leads far out into
The sullen night. Nor do
I fear the rebel, wind-tossed
Sea that stretches onward, far,
Beyond the might of human hands
Or human loves. It is the
Brooding, sharp-thorned discontent
I fear, the nagging days without
A sound of song; the sunlit
Noon of ease; the burden of
Delight and--flattery. It is
The hate-touched soul I dread,
The joyless heart; the unhappy
Faces in the streets; the
Smouldering fires of unforgiven
Slights. These do I fear. Not
Night, nor surging seas, nor
Rebel winds. But hearts unlovely,
And unloved.

--James A. Fraser

Love Thyself Last

Love thyself last; look near, behold thy duty
  To those who walk beside thee down life's road,
Make glad their days by little acts of beauty,
  And help them bear the burden of earth's load.

Love thyself last; look far and find the stranger
  Who staggers 'neath his sin and his despair;
Go, lend a hand and lead him out of danger
  To heights where he may see the world is fair.

Love thyself last; the vastnesses above thee
  Are filled with spirit forces, strong and pure;
And fervently these faithful friends shall love thee,
  Keep thy watch over others and endure.

Love thyself last; and thou shalt grow in spirit
  To see, to hear, to know and understand;
The message of the stars, lo, thou shalt hear it,
  And all God's joys shall be at thy command.

--Ella Wheeler Wilcox, 1855-1919

What I Live For

I live for those who love me,
  Whose hearts are kind and true;
For the Heaven that smiles above me,
  And awaits my spirit too;
For all human ties that bind me,
For the task by God assigned me,
For the bright hopes yet to find me,
  And the good that I can do.

I live to learn their story
  Who suffered for my sake;
To emulate their glory
  And follow in their wake:
Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages,
The heroic of all ages,
Whose deeds crowd History's pages
  And Time's great volume make.

I live to hold communion
  With all that is divine,
To feel there is a union
  'Twixt Nature's heart and mine;
To profit by affliction,
Reap truth from fields of fiction,
Grow wiser from conviction,
  And fulfill God's grand design.

I live to hail the season,
  By gifted ones foretold,
When man shall live by reason,
  And not alone by gold;
When man to man united,
And every wrong thing righted,
The whole world shall be lighted,
  As Eden was of old.

I live for those who love me,
  For those who know me true;
For the heaven that smiles above me,
  And awaits my spirit too;
For the cause that lacks assistance,
For the wrong that needs resistance,
For the future in the distance,
  And the good that I can do.

--G. Linnaeus Banks, 1821-1881

Three Lessons

There are three lessons I would write--
  Three words as with a burning pen,
In tracings of eternal light,
  Upon the hearts of men.

Have Hope. Though clouds environ now,
  And gladness hides her face in scorn,
Put thou the shadow from thy brow--
  No night but hath its morn.

Have Faith. Where'er thy bark is driven--
  The calm's disport, the tempest's mirth--
Know this: God rules the host of heaven,
  The inhabitants of earth.

Have Love. Not love alone for one,
  But man as man thy brother call;
And scatter like the circling sun
  Thy charities on all.

Thus grave these lessons on thy soul--
  Faith, Hope, and Love--and thou shalt
    find
Strength when life's surges rudest roll,
  Light when thou else wert blind.

--Johann Christopher Friedrich von Schiller,
1759-1805

Prayer For A Little Home

God send us a little home,
To come back to, when we roam--

Low walls and fluted tiles;
Wide windows, a view for miles;

Red firelight and deep chairs;
Small white beds upstairs;

Great talk in little nooks;
Dim colors, rows of books;

One picture on each wall;
Not many things at all.

God send us a little ground,
Tall trees standing round.

Homely flowers in brown sod,
Overhead, Thy stars, O God.

God bless Thee, when winds blow,
Our home, and all we know!

--Florence Bone

The Cup of Happiness

Lord God, how full our cup of happiness!
We drink and drink--and yet it grows not less;
But every morn the newly risen sun
Finds it replenished, sparkling, over-run!
Hast Thou not given us raiment, warmth, and meat,
And in due season all earth's fruits to eat?--
Work for our hands and rainbows for our eyes,
And for our souls the wings of butterflies?--
A father's smile, a mother's fond embrace,
The tender light upon a lover's face?--
The talk of friends, the twinkling eye of mirth,
The whispering silence of the good green earth?--
Hope for our youth, and memories for age,
And psalms upon the heavens' moving page?

And dost Thou not of pain a mingling pour,
To make the cup but overflow the more?

--Gilbert Thomas

To Mother

You painted no Madonnas
  On chapel walls in Rome,
But with a touch diviner
  You lived one in your home.

You wrote no lofty poems
  That critics counted art,
But with a nobler vision
  You lived them in your heart.

You carved no shapeless marble
  To some high souled design,
But with a finer sculpture
  You shaped this soul of mine.

You built no great cathedrals
  That centuries applaud
But with a grace exquisite
  Your life cathedraled God.

Had I the gift of Raphael,
  Or Michelangelo,
Oh, what a rare Madonna
  My mother's life would show!

--T.W. Fessenden

Lord, While For All Mankind We Pray...

Lord, while for all mankind we pray,
Of every clime and coast,
O hear us for our native land,
The land we love the most.

O guard our shores from every foe;
With peace our borders bless;
With prosp'rous times our cities crown,
Our fields with plenteousness.

Unite us in the sacred love
Of knowledge, truth, and Thee,
And let our hills and valleys shout
The songs of liberty.

Lord of the nations, thus to Thee
Our country we commend;
Be Thou her refuge and her trust,
Her everlasting friend.

--John R. Wreford, 1800-1881

Give Us Men!

Give us Men!
Men--from every rank,
Fresh and free and frank;
Men of thought and reading,
Men of light and leading,
Men of loyal breeding,
The nation's welfare speeding;
Men of faith and not of fiction,
Men of lofty aim in action;
  Give us Men--I say again,
    Give us Men!

Give us Men!
Strong and stalwart ones;
Men whom highest hope inspires,
Men whom purest honor fires,
Men who trample self beneath them,
Men who make their country wreathe
      them
  As her noble sons,
  Worthy of their sires;
Men who never shame their mothers,
Men who never fail their brothers,
True, however false are others:
  Give us Men--I say again,
    Give us Men!

Give us Men!
Men who, when the tempest gathers,
Grasp the standard of their fathers
  In the thickest fight;
Men who strike for home and altar,
(Let the coward cringe and falter),
  God defend the right!
True as truth the lorn and lonely,
Tender, as the brave are only;
Men who tread where saints have trod,
Men for Country, Home--and God:
  Give us Men! I say again--again--
    Give us Men!

--Edward Henry Bickersteth, 1825-1906

Servants of the Great Adventure

Servants of the great adventure,
  Patriots of God's fatherland,
Fir'd by one supreme ambition,
  Ready for the call we stand.
Cleanse our minds, thou Love all-ruling,
  Steel our wills, unbind our eyes
That we see a-right Thy kingdom;
  Make us daring, free and wise.

Millions lie in crying darkness,
  Unredeemed, untam'd, untaught,
Women prone in seal'd oppression,
  Men like cattle sold and bought;
Millions grope through out-worn systems;
  Many a cruel ancient faith
Binds the earth; and many a rebel,
  Dooms the Christ again to death.

Yet men ev'rywhere have found Thee,
  Christ, the crown of ev'ry creed;
All the faiths and all the systems,
  Who hast won the hearts of men;
Thou wilt fill the world with splendor,
  In our hands the how and when.

All the world shall live in kindness,
  Hate and war shall pass away,
When men grow from out their blindness,
  Wake, and see the blaze of day:
Each but needs the truth to win him,
  Shape the beauty of his soul,
Fan the fire of love within him,
  Save from self and make him whole.

Praise God for the hidden leaven,
  For the depths yet unexplored;
Praise Him for the Realm of Heaven--
  All ye peoples, praise the Lord!
Sing, the round world all together,
  With one mind and heart and mouth;
Glorify the Lord All-Father,
  East and West and North and South!

--Percy Dearmer, 1867-1936

Within The Gates

I love to step inside a church,
  To rest, and think, and pray;
The quiet, calm, and holy place
  Can drive all cares away.

I feel that from these simple walls
  There breathes a moving sound
Of sacred music, murmured prayers,
  Caught in the endless round

Of bygone worship, from the store
  The swinging seasons bring--
Gay Christmas pageant, Lenten tears,
  And the sweet hallowing

Of all that makes our human life:
  Birth, and the union blest
Of couples at the altar wed,
  And loved ones laid to rest.

Into my soul this harmony
  Has poured, and now is still;
The Lord's own benediction falls
  Upon me, as I kneel.

Once more, with lifted head, I go
  Out in the jarring mart,
The spring of gladness in my step,
  God's peace about my heart.

--David W. Foley

Survival

A thousand years from this tonight
  When Orion climbs the sky,
The same swift snow will still the roofs,
  The same mad stars run by.

And who will know of China's war,
  Or poison gas in Spain?
The dead. . .they'll be forgotten, lost,
  Whether they lose or gain.

Of all the brilliant strategies
  Of war-lords now alive,
Perhaps a Chinese iris vase
  Of porcelain, may survive . . .

Perhaps a prayer, perhaps a song,
  Fashioned of love and tears,
But only beauty . . . only truth
  Will last a thousand years.

--Margaret Moore Meuttman

Of A Contented Mind

When all is done and said,
  In the end this shall you find:
He most of all doth bathe in bliss
  That hath a quiet mind;
And, clear from worldly cares,
  To deem can be content
The sweetest time in all his life
  In thinking to be spent.

The body subject is
  To fickle Fortune's power,
And to a million of mishaps
  Is casual every hour;
And death in time doth change
  It to a clod of clay;
Whenas the mind, which is divine,
  Runs never to decay.

Companion none is like
  Unto the mind alone;
For many have been harmed by speech,
  Through thinking, few, or none:
Fear oftentimes restraineth words,
  But makes not thought to cease;
And he speaks best that hath the skill
  When for to hold his peace.

Our wealth leaves us at death,
  Our kinsmen at the grave;
But virtues of the mind unto
  The heavens with us we have:
Wherefore, for Virtue's sake,
  I can be well content
The sweetest time in all my life
  To deem in thinking spent.

--Sir Thomas Vaux, 1510-1556

The Harder Task

Teach me to live! 'Tis easier far to die--
  Gently and silently to pass away--
On earth's long night to close the heavy eye,
  And waken in the glorious realms of day.

Teach me that harder lesson--how to live
  To serve Thee in the darkest paths of life.
Arm me for conflict, now fresh vigor give,
  And make me more than conqu'ror in the
    strife.
--Author unknown