NAILS Since Joseph was a carpenter when Jesus was a Boy, The Lad would sit and play with nails, nor needed other toy. He had a pocket full of them, a little hammer too; A block of wood He pounded full. But as He older grew Joseph taught Him how to be a work man skilled and true; One who took pride in honest work, as a workman ought to do. For three years then He went about His earthly ministry Of dealing with the souls of men; and yet I think that He, When visiting at some friend's home, would find it good again To work with hammer and with nails as is the way of men. But one day on a little hill, between the earth and sky, Men nailed Him to a shameful cross and left Him there to die. The great nails pierced His tender hands; precious the blood which ran; The sharp nails tore His bleeding feet, O dying Son of Man! And whose hand placed the cruel nails, and whose hand drove them through? May God forgive me, it was I; yes I, and you and YOU! —Martha Snell Nicholson GOD'S W A Y IS BEST I may not always know the way Wherein God leads my feet; But this I know, that round my path His love and wisdom meet, And so I rest content to know He guides my feet where'er I go. I may not always understand Just why He sends to me Some bitter grief, some heavy loss, But, though I cannot see, I kneel, and whisper through my tears A prayer for help, and know He hears. My cherished plans and hopes may fail.
My idols turn to dust. But this I know, my Father's love Is always safe to trust: These things are dear to me, but still Above them all I hear His will. Oh, precious peace within my heart; Oh, blessed rest to know A Father's love keeps constant watch, Amid life's ebb and flow; I ask no more than this: I rest Content, and know His way is best. HE K N OW S W H A T 'S BEST Thy sky will not be always clear and bright! Thy heart will not be always gay and light! Nor wilt thou always miss the shades of night. There comes into each life a share of gloom When o'er the sky the darkening storm clouds loom And thunders roll as of impending doom. Yet to the soul whose trust is all in God There is no cringing fear of chasten ing rod, But rather, humble tread with feet unshod. Our Father's loving heart knows what is best, And 'neath His shelt'ring wings our souls find rest. As trustingly we come at His behest. Look up, my soul, and smile amid thy tears. God's o'ershadowing care survives the swiftly changing years, And love divine doth triumph over fears. Thus, as with all our heart we seek His blessed face. Rejoice in Him, and safely rest in His sublime embrace, We find sweet peace and joy through His unchanging grace.
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