POSITION FOR PRAYER "The proper way for a man to pray," Said Deacon Lemuel Keys, "The only proper attitude Is down upon his knees." "No, I should say, the way to pray," Said Reverend Doctor Wise, " Is standing straight with out stretched arms And rapturous upturned eyes." " It seems to me his hands should be Devoutly clasped in front, With both thumbs pointing toward the ground," Said Reverend Doctor Blunt. "Last year I fell in Hodkins' well Head first," said Cyrus Brown, "W ith both my heels a-stickin' up, M y head a-pointin' down. " I made a prayer right then and there, Best prayer I ever said. The prayingest prayer I ever prayed Was standing on my head." LORD, LET ME NOT FORGET Lord, let me not forget this pain, For it has come to be A tide which bears me on its crest, Closer, dear Lord, to Thee. Lord, let me not forget this grief, Because from day to day I learn how tender is the hand Which wipes my tears away. Lord, let me not forget how weak I am, but how Thy strength Is all-sufficient, and supplies The need of each day's length. Let me forget not that my sin Cost Thy last drop of blood A s though 'twere shed for me alone, O, blessed Son of God! Remembering these, the day I stand And look into Thy face, It may be I can faintly glimpse The measure of Thy grace! — Martha Snell Nicholson
YESTERDAY Yesterday He helped me when my load was hard to bear And yesterday He lifted my heavy weight of care. When with lagging footsteps, I fal tered on my way And in His arms of mercy He bore me yesterday. Shall I fear the pathway today my feet must tread? Shall I fear the journey that lieth on ahead? He who led me safely through all my yesterdays, W ill guide my steps tomorrow in paths of truth and praise. So resting on His mercy and trust ing in His love, I go my way rejoicing toward heav en and home above. What though my way be stormy, what though my path be steep, The hand that ne'er has failed me unto the end will keep. MY CUP RUNNETH OVER Sometimes a very flood of joy Sweeps over me; How safe, how rich I am for ah Eternity! Sometimes the singing in my heart W ill not be stilled, And all the shadows in my soul Are glory filled. Sometimes He sends a peace more deep Than I can tell, Because my loved ones are with Him, Joyful and well. Sometimes— nay, every precious hour Of every day. M y hand is warm within His own, M y Light, M y Way. Sometimes I try in vain to count M y goods and store; Joint-heir with Christ the Lord! M y cup Is running o'er! — Martha Snell Nicholson
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