No Room "W e have no room." Nor did they care That God's own Son was lying there. All power laid down, all glory sped, A baby in a manger-bed. But angels lowly bowed in love To praise the Lord of Heaven above, And joined the humble shepherds there In happy song and ardent prayer. "W e have no room." The world takes up The cry. "Fo r we must laugh and sup. When years are few and eyes are dim, Ah, then perhaps we'll turn to Him. But ask us not while youth abide To lay earth's glittering joys aside. 'Till life's bright ways our feet have trod We have •no time to spend with God." Lord, here is room. M y heart I bring To Thee, a humble offering. It bears the marks of sin and shame And is not worthy of Thy name, So cleanse it, Lord, that it may be A throne that's fit to offer Thee. Then, through the blood my sins forgiven, I'll find there's room for me, in Heav en. — Barbara Elden Cornet
"Suppose" Suppose that Christ had not been born That far away Judean morn; Suppose that God, whose mighty hand Created worlds, had never planned A way for man to be redeemed. Suppose that wise men only dreamed The guiding star whose light still glows Down through the centuries; suppose Christ never walked here in men's sight. Our blessed Way, the Truth, the Light. Suppose He'd counted all the cost, And never cared that we were lost, And never died for you and me, Nor shed His blood on Calvary Upon a shameful cross. Suppose That, having died, He never rose, And there was none with power to save Our souls from darkness and the grave * * * A s far as piteous heathen know, These things that I've supposed are so! — Martha Snell Nicholson
CRADLE A N D THRONE Earth gave Thee a cradle, O Christ, and a cross, Hard roads for Thy journey, reviling and loss; Earth gave Thee Thy wounding, Thy shroud, and Thy tomb. But earth gave no welcome and earth gave no home. Oh, Wronged One, return to the land Thou hast left, The land that is desolate, lone and bereft; The world is a chaos of comfortless woes; M e n 's wisdom has failed them, no help they propose. Thou art the one hope, Lord, oh, lend us Thine aid And save Thy creation — the world Thou hast made. A new earth shall greet Thee, a new world shall sing The greatness and glories of Jesus its King. Earth that once gave Thee is scorning and shame, Its thorns and its scourging, shall yet hail Thy name. The earth, once rebellious, allegiance shall own, Shall give Thee a scepter, a crown, and a throne. — Annie Johnson Flint It May Be The Last! It may be the last of the years quickly flying, It may be the year when the M as ter will come; When the Land of the Holy for which we are sighing, Will burst Into view— the Father's glad Home. It may be the last of the earth's checkered story— The last of the desert, the furnace, the thorn; And the last, too, of service in weak ness, then glory: The Lord will have come, the Star of the morn! It may be the last time on earth to awaken, To finish the story of sorrow and toil, Of feeling unloved, and neglected, forsaken. Of treading in pain earth's thorn- covered soil. It may be the last time the daily cross choosing, The footprints of Jesus retracing below; Earth's glitter and glamour so tempt ing refusing, Eternal companionship with Him to know. It may be the last! then all mystery ending In radiant light from the sunshine of God. And, O what a welcome! as we are ascending 'Twill more than make up for the difficult road. — M ax 1, Reich
One of the World's Greatest Verses
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The Road To Bethlehem The road that leads to Bethlehem Leads on to Galilee; To Nazareth the Lord Christ came— An uncouth town, a humble home; This was the lowly place for Him W ho lived in Galilee. The road that leads to Bethlehem Leads to a wilderness; With wild beasts for His company, And fierce assaults from Satan: The tempter sly, and victory In that lone wilderness. The road that leads to Bethlehem Leads up to Calvary; Hark! From that night a piercing cry, " M y God! M y God! Forsaken! W h y ?" It was for me my Lord did die That day on Calvary. The road that leads to Bethlehem Leads to Mount Olivet: A benediction given then Upon those upward-gazing men: A shout of triumph when again Christ's feet touch Olivet. — Harold M. Freligh
His Christmas Tree I think that I shall never see A hill so green as Calvary;
Nor yet a tree so sweet and fair A s cruel men once planted there. And, oh, I know I'll never find A love so gracious and so kind; A love so deep, so high, so broad A s issued from the heart of God— When He leaned down to you and me, And hung His Son upon the Tree. Oh, shining yew-trees laden down With costly presents in each town— For very shame, well may you wince! There never was before nor since A Christmas gift so wrapped in red, W ith golden joy-bells overspread— And, oh, the precious thing Is this, A thing you must not, must not, miss— The gift upon God's Christmas Tree Is waiting there for you and me! — Lois Reynolds Carpenter
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DECEMBER, 1962
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