 | Morning Glories : |  |
WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR?
We had gathered for the love-feast on the time appointed night,
And many came with hearts aflame and swords all burnished bright;
And other heavy laden ones who, toiling on life's road,
Forgot that Christ had promised to bear their heavy load,
Came struggling in the open door and dropped into a seat,
But failed to lay their burdens at the blessed Saviour's feet.
And many came with hearts aflame and swords all burnished bright;
And other heavy laden ones who, toiling on life's road,
Forgot that Christ had promised to bear their heavy load,
Came struggling in the open door and dropped into a seat,
But failed to lay their burdens at the blessed Saviour's feet.
39
We sang the hymn “Redeeming Love,” and then we knelt in prayer,
Not knowing that one steeped in sin had gathered with us there;
Then we arose and each in turn began of Christ to talk,
And some rejoiced and others moaned o'er life's intricate walk;
And when the Holy Spirit had pervaded every heart,
The weak grew strong, for all their doubts were bidden to depart.
We felt that faithful, earnest prayer would unlock heaven's door,
Not knowing that one steeped in sin had gathered with us there;
Then we arose and each in turn began of Christ to talk,
And some rejoiced and others moaned o'er life's intricate walk;
And when the Holy Spirit had pervaded every heart,
The weak grew strong, for all their doubts were bidden to depart.
We felt that faithful, earnest prayer would unlock heaven's door,
Lo, in our very midst, there stood a drunkard on the floor;
He'd wandered down the narrow street and stopped and made his bed
Upon the steps that to the very mercy-seat had led,
Where the thrilling songs of Zion and the atmosphere of prayer,
And the host of the invisibles floated on the evening air.
He'd wandered down the narrow street and stopped and made his bed
Upon the steps that to the very mercy-seat had led,
Where the thrilling songs of Zion and the atmosphere of prayer,
And the host of the invisibles floated on the evening air.
They roused him from his stupor, smote his conscience and his heart,
For he saw that with “the chosen” even here he had no part;
And struggling to control himself and decently appear,
He laid aside his tattered hat and to the desk drew near.
The muttered words stuck in his throat as hard he strove to speak:
“My friends, I've been a drinking,” were uttered low and weak.
For he saw that with “the chosen” even here he had no part;
And struggling to control himself and decently appear,
He laid aside his tattered hat and to the desk drew near.
The muttered words stuck in his throat as hard he strove to speak:
“My friends, I've been a drinking,” were uttered low and weak.
“Put the man out,” they quickly cried, “how dare he interfere?
This is no place for drunkards, only the good are here.”
And as the men advanced to take the poor intruder out,
He placed his hands behind him and despairing gazed about.
There rested such a look upon his now quite sobered face
Of hopelessness: it seemed to say, “they thrust me from this place.”
This is no place for drunkards, only the good are here.”
40
He placed his hands behind him and despairing gazed about.
There rested such a look upon his now quite sobered face
Of hopelessness: it seemed to say, “they thrust me from this place.”
Where prayers are made for erring ones. Christ says to all mankind:
“That whosoe'er believing comes shall full salvation find.”
Strong hands were laid upon him and they led him to the door,
And from the church steps down he went perhaps to rise no more.
Who knows but that a hasty step his lasting doom may seal.
Though sense of his unworthiness he yet may keenly feel.
Perhaps we, too, are erring, let us turn our eyes within;
Perhaps we'll have no trouble in discovering secret sin.
If the question were but answered how our cases stood
The echo of the answer would be: no, not one is good.
Let us be like Samaritans, and stoop when passing by,
To raise a fallen brother and to hear the needy's cry.
“That whosoe'er believing comes shall full salvation find.”
Strong hands were laid upon him and they led him to the door,
And from the church steps down he went perhaps to rise no more.
Who knows but that a hasty step his lasting doom may seal.
Though sense of his unworthiness he yet may keenly feel.
Perhaps we, too, are erring, let us turn our eyes within;
Perhaps we'll have no trouble in discovering secret sin.
If the question were but answered how our cases stood
The echo of the answer would be: no, not one is good.
Let us be like Samaritans, and stoop when passing by,
To raise a fallen brother and to hear the needy's cry.
| Morning Glories : | |