That suffered man, and death, and yet, in tenderness,
Set wide the door, and passed Himself before--
As He had promised--to prepare a place.
Yea, we may hope!
For we are seeds,
Dropped into earth for heavenly blossoming.
Perchance, when comes the time of harvesting,
His loving care
May find some use for even a humble tare.
We know not what we shall be--only this--
That we shall be made like Him--as He is.
Lord, when on my bed I lie,
Sleepless, unto Thee I'll cry;
When my brain works overmuch,
Stay the wheels with Thy soft touch.
Just a quiet thought of Thee,
And of Thy sweet charity,--
Just a little prayer, and then
I will turn to sleep again.
THE BELLS OF YS
When the Bells of Ys rang softly,--softly,
Soft--and sweet--and low,
Not a sound was heard in the old gray town,
As the silvery tones came floating down,
just to say Bees in Amber is a precious little book. My copy is quite old and has been greatly used. I am hoping to get another copy for a friend who was delighted with some of the poems I read to him. I like most of all the litle Tedeum, and find the short poem prayers useful to read to friends. How good it would be if we could obtain such delightful books in this present day; and how much brighter and happier our world would be. Regards