DIAMONDS Rough, yellow lumps of resin, Dull, shapeless beads of glass, If you were seeking for treasures With hardly a look you'd pass. But the diamond cutter takes one To bind in a metal mold, Against the rim of a whirling wheel The lusterless lump to hold. The wheels are of copper and iron But the diamond's hardness is such That only another diamond Can give the finishing touch: So pressing and turning and press ing He wears through the outer crust, And the last metal disk of his using Is coated with diamond dust. Are you living with those who fret you— Who "wear on you" day by day? It is thus that the Master Cutter Is grinding the refuse away: He uses the copper and iron, The water's chill and the fire, But the diamond's dust and the Spir it's oil Work best for His heart's desire. Should you not be glad of the polish That is making a perfect gem? And when He gathers His jewels Would you not be one of them? — Annie Johnson Flint KEEP SWEET Do burdens press sorely? Just ask Him for grace, He'll give it and help thee "KEEP SWEET." Let sunshine and gladness Illumine thy face, 'Twill help someone else to "KEEP SWEET." Do troubles oppress thee? Let God be thy stay. 'Tis easy to sigh, but it's Better to pray; Thy sunshine will come in His Own blessed way, So trustingly try to "KEEP SWEET."
ONE DAY AT A TIME One day at a time, With its failures and fears With its hurts and mistakes, With its weakness and tears, With its portion of pain, And its burden of care. One day at a time We must meet and must bear. One day at a time, To be patient and strong, To be calm under trial And sweet under wrong. Then its toiling shall pass And its sorrows shall cease. It shall darken and die, And the night shall bring peace. One day at a time— But the day is so long, And the heart is not brave, And the soul is not strong. Oh, Thou compassionate Christ, Be Thou near all the way: Give courage and patience And strength for the day. Swift cometh His answer, So clear and so sweet: "Yea, I will be with thee, Thy troubles to meet: I will not forget thee, Nor fail thee, nor grieve: I will not forsake thee: I will never leave." Not yesterday's load We are called on to bear, Nor tomorrow's uncertain And shadowy care: Why should we look forward Or back with dismay Our needs, as our mercies, Are but for the day. One day at a time, And the day is His day: He hath numbered its hours, Though they haste or delay His grace is sufficient: We walk not alone As the day so the strength That He giveth His own.
— Annie Johnson Flint
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