“It is not he loves the coming of the Lord, who asserts that it is near; or he who asserts that it is not near: but he rather who, whether it be near or afar off, waits for it in the sincerity of faith, the firmness of hope, and the ardor of love.”
-AUGUSTINE.
“TO-DAY OR TO-MORROW.”
“THE dark stream of evil is flowing apace:”
Awake, and be doing, ye children of grace.
Let us seek with compassion the souls that are lost,
Well knowing the price their redemption has cost.
While singing with rapture the Savior's great love,
And waiting for Him to translate us above,”
It may be to-morrow, or even to-night,”
Let loins be well girded, and lamps burning bright.
We 're journeying on to the realms of the blest,
We're nearer each day to our heavenly rest;
But when we reach home, and its regions of joy,
No labors of mercy our hands can employ:
No mourning ones there shall we meet to console,
No wand'rers to rescue, or sick ones make whole,
No weak ones to cherish, no lost ones to find-
These labors of love we shall all leave behind.
The house, and the land, and the wealth in the chest,
Give plenty occasions for ministries blest;
Let 's use them to lessen the lone widow's grief,
To fatherless children give welcome relief;
The doubting and fearful, to them let us bring
Those tidings of mercy that cause us to sing.
Then let us "to-morrow, and even to-day,”
Be true to our mission while down here we stay.
Yes, let us with ardor the Present redeem,-
Our joy and our glory to imitate Him,
The Shepherd, who travailed His lost sheep to save,
And His blood for their ransom on Calvary gave.
Self was never His object; Himself He denied;
For others, each moment, He lived and He died!
We are left here to learn, and to copy His grace,
While He in the heavens secures us our place.
Then, Lord, while my spirit so yearns to get home,
I'd learn to be patient till Thou for us come;
E'en now is my spirit so happy in Thee,
I can bear here to tarry till Thou call for me.
In the patience of hope I will spend Thy delay,
'T would be selfish to wish e'en to hasten the day,
Assured Thy long-suff'ring alone stays the hour
When the "Day of the Lord" shall display its dread power.
My Master! I pray Thee to purge from my breast
All hard, selfish pining for ease and for rest.
Oh, make me delight in Thy service of love,
My heart all responsive to Thy heart above!
The time of my sojourn, how soon it may end!
Instruct me more wisely its "twelve hours" to spend;
That be it "to-morrow, or be it to-night,”
To win Thy approval be still my delight.