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 loved 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 gather’d ‘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 banish’d 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 then 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.