I* look not inward— that would make me wretched, For I have naught on which to stay my trust; Nothing I see but failure and short comings, And weak endeavours crumbling into dust. But I look up-— up into the face of Jesus! For there my heart can rest, my fears are stilled; And there is joy, and love, and light for darkness, And perfect peace, and every hope fulfilled. THE EVERLASTING A RM S However deep my needs have been Along the pathway that I trod, Yet always underneath I've found The everlasting arms of God. He is my refuge and my strength, A shelter safe, serene, secure, He is the great eternal God, Whose love will evermore endure. When days are dark and nights are drear, When burdens seem too great to bear, My heavenly Father bids me come And cast on Him my every care. With tender hands He lifts the load, And whispers words of hope and cheer. He stills the sigh, awakes the song, And helps me banish needless fear. E'en in the darksome hour of death When one I loved was called away, He comforted my saddened heart, And gave me strength for each new day. And so whate'er the future holds, I know the best is yet to be. I'm sheltered in His arms of love For time and all eternity. — Albert' Simpson Reitz
THÉ HARVEST A N D THE TEMPEST "Why are the workers not many?" I thought to myself— and then I glanced about me and noticed the mountains were full of men; Men who were laughing and joking, playing some sort of game; Not seeing how ripe the harvest, or heeding the storm that came. Then came the crash of the tempest, the rushing wind, and the rain Came howling over the valleys, ruin ing the yellow grain; The heavens were rocked with thun der, the lightning split the skies, Till we who stood on the mountain covered our poor, blinded eyes! Above the crash of the tempest, the voice of the Stranger broke "Behold, the ruin of the harvest— this is the heathen!" He spoke. "The storm that so wildly rages, is God's great Judgment Day!" And I woke, and wept in repentance as there on my bed I lay. PERFECT PEACE I look not back— God knows the fruit less efforts. The wasted hours, the sinning and re grets; I leave them all with Him who blots the record, And graciously forgives, and then for gets. I look not forward— God sees all the future, The road that short or long, will lead me home; And He will face with me its every trial And bear for me the burden that may come. I look not around me— then would fears assail me, So wild the tumult of life's restless seas; So dark the world, so filled with war and evil, So vain the hope of comfort and of ease.
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