TWAS a time of bitter sorrow;
Stormy had the daytime been;
How I trembled for the morrow,
Dreading too the night between
Then I heard a sweet voice saying
“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild;”
And another, white-robed, praying
“Look upon a little child.”
Quickly then my trouble vanished,
As the mist before the day;
And all anxious care was banished,
For the moment, far away:
Then the precious dewdrop glistened
“Pity my simplicity;”
And I melted as I listened—
“Suffer me to come to Thee.”
O the music of those voices!
“Perfect” praise and “perfect” prayer!
And a father’s heart rejoices,
Even in the midst of care,
When he hears the sweet petition—
“Fain I would to Thee be brought,”
Joined to His Divine permission—
“Gracious God, forbid it not.”
Now my soul grew calm and tender,
Though as hard as stone before;
Softened to a sweet surrender,
I became a child once more:
With them in my spirit kneeling,
“In the kingdom of Thy grace,”
I could ask with holy feeling,
“Give a little child a place.”
I could view my Father’s pleasure
In the sorrow of the way,
With His all-sufficient treasure
As my portion day by day:
Faith could pierce the clouds above me
“O supply my every want;”
Knowing He would ever love me—
“Feed the young and tender plant.”
Lord, I thank Thee for Thy kindness
Shown to me, a child of dust,
And deplore the sin and blindness
At the root of my distrust:
What from Thee my soul shall sever?
“Day and night my Keeper be;”
Since Thy mercy lasts forever,
“Every moment watch round me.”
WILIAM WILEMAN.
October 5th, 1901.