 | Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell |  |
GOD'S CHASTENINGS.
Shrink not from sorrows; 'tis not wise—
They are but mercies in disguise;
Ladders by which we mount and rise.
They are but mercies in disguise;
Ladders by which we mount and rise.
“Ministering spirits,” they are sent
As Angels from God's firmament,
On heavenly messages intent.
As Angels from God's firmament,
On heavenly messages intent.
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Take them in love; in love they come,
To call our heart to that fair home
From which it is so prone to roam.
To call our heart to that fair home
From which it is so prone to roam.
Learn from each grief its lesson true,
What God would have thee think and do,
What path avoid, or road pursue.
What God would have thee think and do,
What path avoid, or road pursue.
Whate'er betide, whate'er befall,
Be very sure there's love in all;
Love, though it fret, and wound, and gall.
Be very sure there's love in all;
Love, though it fret, and wound, and gall.
For thus, through trouble, shame, and loss,
By many a bitter pang and cross,
He would refine and purge the dross.
By many a bitter pang and cross,
He would refine and purge the dross.
Look then on sorrow as a friend;
Rough means unto a gracious end;
As on the heavenly way you wend.
Rough means unto a gracious end;
As on the heavenly way you wend.
You cry to God that He would spare,
The wintry days and bitter air,
The wasting trouble and the care.
The wintry days and bitter air,
The wasting trouble and the care.
You long for pastures green and still,
The sheltered way, the gentle rill,
The summer days, the wooded hill.
The sheltered way, the gentle rill,
The summer days, the wooded hill.
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Yet winter has its use, and frost;
Without them many a hope were crost;
The golden harvest spoiled and lost.
Without them many a hope were crost;
The golden harvest spoiled and lost.
They kill the noxious worm, the weed,
And baneful creatures that would feed
Upon the precious buried seed.
And baneful creatures that would feed
Upon the precious buried seed.
Thus trial is a wholesome thing;
Though sharpest grief our hearts may wring,
It doth with it a blessing bring.
Though sharpest grief our hearts may wring,
It doth with it a blessing bring.
Give it fair welcome; all God's ways
Will call forth endless strains of praise,
Throughout the long eternal days.
Will call forth endless strains of praise,
Throughout the long eternal days.
| Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell | |