Not now, my child, —a little more rough tossing,
A little longer on the billows’ foam, —
A few more journeyings in the desert-darkness,
And then the sunshine of thy Father’s home!
Not now, — for I have wand’rers in the distance,
And thou must call them in with patient love;
Not now, — for I have sheep upon the mountains,
And thou must follow them where’er they rove.
Not now, — for I have lov’d ones sad and weary,
Wilt thou not cheer them with a kindly smile?
Sick ones, who need thee in their lonely sorrow,
Wilt thou not tend them yet a little while?
Not now, — for wounded hearts are sorely bleeding,
And thou must teach those widow’d hearts to sing;
Not now, — for orphans’ tears are thickly falling,
They must be gathered ‘neath some sheltering wing.
Not now, — for many a hungry one is pining,
Thy willing hand must be outstretch’d and free,
Thy Father hears the mighty cry of anguish,
And gives His answering messages to thee.
Not now, — for dungeon walls look stern and gloomy,
And pris’ners’ sighs sound strangely on the breeze,
Man’s pris’ners, but thy Savior’s noble free-men;
Hast thou no ministry of love for these?
Not now, — for hell’s eternal gulf is yawning.
And souls are perishing in hopeless sin, —
Jerusalem’s bright gates are standing open, —
Go to the banished ones, and fetch them in!
Go with the Name of Jesus to the dying,
And speak that Name in all its living power;
Why should thy fainting heart grow chill and weary,
Canst thou not watch with me one little hour?
One little hour! and then the glorious crowning,
The golden harp-strings and the victor’s palm, —
One little hour! — and then the Hallelujah!
Eternity’s long, deep thanksgiving psalm!
C. P.