The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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September 18
GOD'S VOICES |
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The Prisoner of Love | ||
301
September 18 GOD'S VOICES
“And after the fire a still small voice.”—1 Kings xix. 12.
We hear it sometimes in the day,
We never miss it through the night
When souls with Jesus watch and pray—
The music which is all our might.
And on the beaten upward way
Which struggles dimly towards the Light,
The songs which are our sunshine play
About each little deed of right.
We never miss it through the night
When souls with Jesus watch and pray—
The music which is all our might.
And on the beaten upward way
Which struggles dimly towards the Light,
The songs which are our sunshine play
About each little deed of right.
God's Voices how we know not start,
And as a wind upon a wood
Bow with a more than mortal art
The stubborn pride that adverse stood.
And while of every joy a part
They gather through the world their food,
And murmur softly in the heart
Whene'er we think a thought of good.
And as a wind upon a wood
Bow with a more than mortal art
The stubborn pride that adverse stood.
And while of every joy a part
They gather through the world their food,
And murmur softly in the heart
Whene'er we think a thought of good.
It's not enough that man is strong
Or all his acts are wise and clever,
With steadfast hatred of the wrong
Or honest aim and high endeavour;
Unless he hears the heavenly song,
From which no earthly gulf can sever
Our lives, that rolls the stars along
And haunts the human mind for ever.
Or all his acts are wise and clever,
With steadfast hatred of the wrong
Or honest aim and high endeavour;
Unless he hears the heavenly song,
From which no earthly gulf can sever
Our lives, that rolls the stars along
And haunts the human mind for ever.
The Prisoner of Love | ||