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225
PEACE IN BELIEVING.
“Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief.”
—Hebrews, III. 12.
—Hebrews, III. 12.
The tree that yields our care and grief
Is from a root of unbelief!
The pricking thorns,—the arrows fierce,
Our spirit and our flesh to pierce,—
The grafts, that spoil our vineyard's fruit,
Are from that bitter, evil root.
Is from a root of unbelief!
The pricking thorns,—the arrows fierce,
Our spirit and our flesh to pierce,—
The grafts, that spoil our vineyard's fruit,
Are from that bitter, evil root.
The branch that hangs with clustering woes,—
The flag-staff of the prince of foes,—
The tares that mar our golden sheaf,—
All, all spring up from unbelief:
And Hope, the victim of Despair,
Points, dying, to the poison there!
The flag-staff of the prince of foes,—
The tares that mar our golden sheaf,—
All, all spring up from unbelief:
And Hope, the victim of Despair,
Points, dying, to the poison there!
But in Belief we 've joy and peace,—
Of faith and power, a sweet increase,—
From burning skies, a cool retreat,—
A shelter safe when tempests beat,—
Fresh balm of Gilead for our grief,—
For every wound, a healing leaf!
Of faith and power, a sweet increase,—
From burning skies, a cool retreat,—
A shelter safe when tempests beat,—
Fresh balm of Gilead for our grief,—
For every wound, a healing leaf!
Belief smooths down our thorny cares,—
With springing grain uproots the tares,—
Our harp from off the willow takes,
And every chord to music wakes;
Till Hope, laid icy in the tomb,
Springs up with life, in beauty's bloom.
With springing grain uproots the tares,—
Our harp from off the willow takes,
And every chord to music wakes;
Till Hope, laid icy in the tomb,
Springs up with life, in beauty's bloom.
226
When night comes murky, drear, and damp,
Belief will feed and screen our lamp,
Upon our feet her sandals bind,
About our waist her girdle wind;
Then, lend a staff, and lead the way,
Till we walk forth to beaming day.
Belief will feed and screen our lamp,
Upon our feet her sandals bind,
About our waist her girdle wind;
Then, lend a staff, and lead the way,
Till we walk forth to beaming day.
When every fountain of the deep
Seems breaking up, o'er earth to sweep;
While billowy mountains top our bark,
Belief's the dove from out the ark,
Across the flood, to stretch her wing,
And home the branch of olive bring.
Seems breaking up, o'er earth to sweep;
While billowy mountains top our bark,
Belief's the dove from out the ark,
Across the flood, to stretch her wing,
And home the branch of olive bring.
Belief hath eyes so heavenly bright,
As on the cloud to cast their light,
Till fair and glorious hues shall form
From drops and shades that robed the storm,
Bent o'er our world in peace, to show
God's covenant sign,—his unstrung Bow!
As on the cloud to cast their light,
Till fair and glorious hues shall form
From drops and shades that robed the storm,
Bent o'er our world in peace, to show
God's covenant sign,—his unstrung Bow!
When, through a dry and thirsty land,
Earth's pilgrim treads the burning sand,
Belief brings distant prospects near,
With bowers, and fruits, and fountains clear,
Where, when he strikes his tent, he'll be
The heir of immortality.
Earth's pilgrim treads the burning sand,
Belief brings distant prospects near,
With bowers, and fruits, and fountains clear,
Where, when he strikes his tent, he'll be
The heir of immortality.
Whilst unbelief would ever bring
A chain about our spirit's wing,
Belief will plume it o'er the grave—
Above the swell of Jordan's wave—
To fly, nor droop, till calmly furled
In that sweet home, the Spirit-world!
A chain about our spirit's wing,
Belief will plume it o'er the grave—
Above the swell of Jordan's wave—
To fly, nor droop, till calmly furled
In that sweet home, the Spirit-world!
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