King's Business - 1950-04

One Lost Soul My God beholds the cattle on the hills, The wealth of grain across the gleaming fields, Surveys the timbers deep in forest stills, And counts the riches that the harvest yields. He sifts between His fingers shining ore; He sees the stealthy beasts with precious furs, The metals hidden in the mountain’s core. He sees, but none of these His great heart stirs. He gazes down through fathoms of the sea And marks thè beauty of His fairest pearls, Considers well the earth’s fecundity, The depths of riches that the sea unfurls. God reckons all His wealth from pole to pole— And counts it all as naught for one lost soul.

O Sacred Head Now Wounded — Ascribed to Bernard of Clairvaux O sacred Head, now wounded, With grief and shame weighed down; Now scornfully surrounded With thorns, Thine only crown; O sacred Head, what glory,

What bliss, till now was Thine! Yet, though despised and gory, I ¡oy to call Thee mine. O noblest Brow and dearest, In other days the world All feared when Thou appearedst; What shame on Thee is hurled! How art Thou pale with anguish, With sore abuse and scorn; How does that visage languish Which once was bright as morn! What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered Was all for sinners' gain; Mine, mine was the transgression, But Thine the deadly pain* Lo, here I fall, my Saviour! 'Tis I deserve Thy place; Look on me with Thy favor, Vouchsafe to me Thy grace. What language shall I borrow To thank Thee, dearest Friend, For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end? O make me Thine for ever;

—Charlotte E. Arnold

God's River * I * HERE is a river in the ocean. In the severest droughts it A never fails, and in the mightiest floods it never overflows. The Gulf of Mexico is its fountain, and its mouth is in the Arctic Seas. It is the Gulf Stream. There is in the world no other such majestic flow of waters. Its current is more rapid than the Mississippi or the Amazon, and its volume more than a thousand times greater. Its waters, as far out from the Gulf as the Carolina coasts, are of an indigo blue; they are so distinctly marked that their line of junction with the common sea water may be traced by the eye. Often one-half of a vessel may be perceived floating in Gulf Stream water, while the other half is in common water of the sea, so sharp is the line and such want of affinity between those waters, and such too the reluctance, so to speak, on the part of those of the Gulf Stream to mingle with the common water of the sea. The curious phenomenon in the physical world has its coun­ terpart in the moral. There is a lonely river in the midst of the ocean of mankind. The mightiest floods of human tempta­ tion have never caused it to overflow and the fiercest fires of human cruelty, though seven times heated in the furnace of religious bigotry, have never caused it to dry up, although its waves for two thousand years have rolled crimson with the biood of its .martyrs. Its fountain is in the grey dawn of the world s history, and its mouth is somewhere in the shadows of eternity. It too refuses to mingle with the surrounding waves and the line which divides its restless billows from the common waters of humanity is also plainly visible to the eve It is the Jewish race. Grace Al l -Suf f i c i ent II Corinthians 12:7-9 Most gladly will I glory, Lord, in weakness, pain and strife, ° n([fe hy greaf pow’r may be my strength and stay through Though foes on ev’ry hand assail, and friends forsake me TOO, . . 9 rac® is all-sufficient, Lord, to bear me safely throuqh. Most fervency I pleaded, Lord, to have the thorn removed; A better answer Thou didst grant, and now Thy love I’ve proved. Thy grace is never-failing, Lord; in weakness I am strong; By Thy transforming pow'r I find the thorn is now my sonq.' n .IJxY. 'e ™,0,m. be sanctified through all the days to come, Until this earthly house be changed for my eternal home. And there beyond all pain and strife, amid the blood-“ washed throng, I'll praise Thee for the love that turned the thorn into a song. —Albert Simpson Reitz A P R I L , 1 9 5 0

And should I fainting be, Lord, let me never, never Outlive my love to Thee.

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