A MOTHER S TRUST Beneath the blood-stained lintel I with my children stand; A messenger of evil is passing through the land. There is no other refuge from the destroyer's face; Beneath the blood-stained lintel shall be our hiding place. The Lamb of God has suffered, our sins and griefs He bore; By faith the blood is sprinkled above our dwelling's door. The foe who seeks to enter doth fear that sacred sign; Tonight the blood-stained lintel shall shelter me and mine. M y Saviour, for my dear ones I claim Thy promise true; The Lamb is "for the household"— the children's Saviour too. On earth the little children once felt Thy touch divine; Beneath the blood-stained lintel Thy blessing give to mine. 0 Thou who gave them guard them— those wayward little feet, The wilderness before them, the ills of life to meet. M y mother-love is helpless, I trust them to Thy care! Beneath the blood-stained lintel, oh, keep me ever there! The faith I rest upon Thee Thou wilt not disappoint; With wisdom, Lord, to train them my shrinking heart anoint. Without my children, Father I can not see Thy face; I plead the blood-stained lintel, Thy covenant of grace. O wonderful Redeemer, who suffered for our sake; When o'er the guilty nations the judgment storm shall break, With joy from that safe shelter may we then meet Thine eye, Beneath the blood-stained lintel, my children, Lord, and I. THIS I KNOW 1 know not where tomorrow's road May point my pilgrim way,
I may not taste its joy or care, Nor see beyond today; But this I know-—my Father plans The path I cannot see; He knows each turn, each hill, each dale, And He will walk with me. I know not if my way be bright, Or dark with storm and rain; I know not what it holds for -me Of pleasure or of pain; But this I know— my Saviour's love Prepares my path each day. And held within His mighty hand I need not fear the way. I know not what the future hojds, Nor what life's evening brings, But with the glad salute of faith I hail its opening wings: For this I know— in God the Lord Shall all my needs be met; I'll trust tomorrow to His love Who has not failed me yet. ARE ALL THE CHILDREN IN? I think oft times as the night draws nigh Of an old house on the hill; Of a yard all wide and blossom-starred Where the children played at will. And when the night at last came down, Hushing the merry din, Mother would look around and ask, "Are all the children in?" 'Tis many and many a year since then; And the old house on the hill No longer echoes to childish feet, And the yard is still, so still. But I see it all, as the shadows creep, And though many the years have been Since then, I can hear mother ask, "Are all the children in?" I wonder if when the shadows fall On the last short, earthly day, When we say goodbye to the world outside, All tired with our childish play, When we step out into that Other Land Where mother so long has bteen, Will we hear her ask, just as of old, "Are all the children in ?"
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