HOW DO YOU BEGIN YOUR DAY? When you woke from sleep this morn ing, Though the hour was rather late, Did you stop to speak with Jesus, And His benediction wait? Did you thank Him for His mercy, For His care through all the night, That no evil had befallen, That no tears now dim your sight? Did you ask Him for the blessing Of His presence through the day, For His leading safely onward, For His guiding lest you'd stray? Did you tell Him that you'd gladly go Wherever He should lead; That you'd try to do His bidding, Helping every soul in need? If you go without these blessings As you start another day, Be assured your strength will fail you And you'll faint along the way: Oh, live closer to the Master, For unless you're very near, Words of love He whispers to you Will not reach your listening ear. THE TONE OF VOICE It is not so much what you say, As the manner in which you say it; It is not so much the language you use, As the tone in which you convey it. "Come here!" I sharply said, And the baby cowered and wept, "Come here!" I cooed; he looked and smiled, And straight to my lap he crept. The words may be mild and fair. And the tones may pierce like a dart; The words may be soft as the summer air, And the tones may break the heart. Whether you know it or not, Whether you mean or care; Gentleness, kindness, love and hate, Envy and anger are there. Then would you quarrels avoid, And in peace and love rejoice; Keep anger not only out of your words, But keep it out of your voice.
A MOTHER'S PRAYER I wash the dirt from little feet, and as I wash I pray, "Lord, keep them ever pure and true to walk the narrow way." I wash the dirt from little hands, and earnestly I ask, "Lord, may they ever yielded be to do Thy humblest task." I wash the dirt from little knees, and pray, "Lord, may they be the place where victories are won, and orders sought from Thee." I scrub the clothes that soil so soon, and pray, "Lord, may her dress throughout eternal ages be Thy robe of righteousness." E'er many hours shall pass, I know, I'll wash these hands again; And there'll be dirt upon her dress before the day shall end. But as she journeys on through life and learns of want and pain, Lord, keep her precious little heart cleansed from all sin and stain; For soap and water cannot reach where Thou alone can'st see. Her hands and feet, those I can wash — I trust her heart to Thee. — Barbara Ryberg THE PH Y SIC IA N 'S PRAYER Lord, who on earth didst minister To those who helpless lay In pain and weakness, hear me now, As unto Thee I pray. Give to mine eyes the power to see The hidden source of ill, Give to my hands the healing touch The throb of pain to still. Grant that mine ears be swift to hear The cry of those in pain; Give to my tongue the words that bring Comfort and strength again. Fill Thou my heart with tenderness, M y brain with wisdom true; And when in weariness I sink Strengthen Thou me anew. So in Thy footsteps may I tread Strong in Thy strength always So may I do Thy blessed work And praise Thee all my days.
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