Poems and Short Features

True Christians
 Audio MP3

True Christians are like jewels ’tis said
   For they are rare in deed.
While found among earth’s mud and clay,
    The world does not take heed.

But jewels must bear the cutter’s hand,
    Be fore their beauty rare,
Breaks forth in fullest brilliance;
    Lovely beyond compare.

Then think not strange when ’ere we feel,
    The Master’s Cutter’s hand,
Pressing us hard against the wheel,
    Of trial or reprimand.

Know that he loves us far too much,
    To cause us need less pain.
His wisdom knows just what we need.
    Let us ne’er complain.

For when the Jewel is fully cut,
    And polished bright and clear,
We will reflect the perfect image,
    Of our Father dear.

When in a crown of purest gold,
    We shine as diamonds fair;
Held within the Father’s hands,
    His glory we’ll declare.

 

A Crown of Glory
Audio MP3

Thou shalt be called by a new name … Thou shalt also be a crown of glory in the hand of the LORD, and a royal diadem in the hand of thy God.—Isaiah 62:2,3

The church in the Hand of God is the church in the hand of Divine power. That power will use the church and she will be a crown of glory and a thing of beauty, gloriously reflecting to all eternity the workmanship of our God. How glorious it will be! How beautiful! The Lord Jehovah will have the setting of these precious jewels, one reflecting upon another in that crown of glory and diadem of beauty, with the Lord Jesus in the chief place, for the Father will not give to the church any glory that He would not give to the Lord Himself. The church is to be displayed before men as “a thing of beauty and a joy forever”—God’s handiwork.

—Reprints, p. 4914

Heaven—Our Home
Audio MP3

In childhood’s days our thoughts of heaven
    Are pearly gates and streets of gold,
And all so very far away.
    A place whose portals may unfold
To us—some far-off distant day.
    But in the gathering of the years,
When life is in the fading leaf,
    With eyes per chance be dimmed by tears,
And hearts oft overwhelmed with grief,
    We look beyond the pearly gate,
Be yond the clouds of grief’s dark night,
    And see a place where loved ones wait,
Where all is blessedness and light.
    And over all we see the face
Of Him who’ll bring us to our own—
    Not to a far off distant place,
For heaven is, after all, just Home.

—Sue H. McLane

He Shall Sit as a Refiner
Audio MP3

Sometimes as we look on, we gaze in wonder
     Upon the dealings of our gracious God.
With those whom o’er and o’er his hand afflicted,
     Who pass so often ’neath his chastening rod.

Pure gold and well refined, to our poor vision
     These loved ones seem; and oft we wonder sore
Why souls who seem to us each day more saintly
    Should by his hand be chastened more and more.

But the dear, loving Lord who tries the spirit,
    Sees in them what no human eye can see—
A further fineness where his gracious dealing
    Has formed the Christ within, in days to be.

As in a portrait by some cunning artist,
    Which men call perfect—those who praise the skill
Of him who warms to life dull, senseless canvas,
    Impatient that he labors at it still.

Labors, be cause be fore his inner vision
    There floats an ideal he has not attained,
And in his heart he holds a steady purpose
    To labor on until that point is gained.

So with these precious souls. Men see their graces,
    So far exceeding those of common men,
And wonder why a God of loving kindness
    Should chasten them again and yet again.

Nor will he stay his hand, though our impatience
    Claim for these souls exemption from the rod,
Till, polished, perfected, refined, and holy,
    Shines out from them the image of their God.

Art thou, be loved, one of this tried number?
Hold still, though furnace fires may hotter grow,
And when his work in thee is all accomplished,
The true life “hid with Christ in God” thou’lt know.

—Helen S. Pepper, Reprints, p. 4571

 

Child of a King

My Father is rich in houses and lands,
He holdeth the wealth of the world in his hands!
Of rubies and diamonds, of silver and gold,
His coffers are full, he has riches untold.
My Father’s own Son, the Saviour of men,
Once wandered o’er earth as the poorest of them;
But now he is reigning in glory on high,
He’ll give us a home in the sweet by and by.
I once was an outcast stranger on earth,
A sinner by choice, and an “alien” by birth!
But I’ve been “adopted,” my name’s written down,
An heir to a mansion, a robe, and a crown.
Though poor on this earth, oh, why should I care?
Since glorious things for me God doth prepare;
Though trials abound, yet, still I may sing:
All glory to God, I’m the child of a King.

—Harriet E. Buell (1877)