Some tempted soul to cheer When breath of ill is near And foes annoy; The sinning to restrain, To ease the throb of pain-- Be such my joy.
Lord, make me quick to see Each task awaiting me, And quick to do; Oh, grant me strength, I pray, With lowly love each day, And purpose true,
To go as Jesus went, Spending and being spent, Myself forgot; Supplying human needs By loving words and deeds-- Oh, happy lot!
When thy heart with joy o'erflowing Sings a thankful prayer, In thy joy, O let thy brother With thee share.
When the harvest sheaves ingathered Fill thy barns with store, To thy God and to thy brother Give the more.
If thy soul with power uplifted Yearns for glorious deed, Give thy strength to serve thy brother In his need.
Hast thou borne a secret sorrow In thy lonely breast? Take to thee thy sorrowing brother For a guest.
Share with him thy bread of blessing, Sorrow's burden share; When thy heart enfolds a brother, God is there.
Sweet-voiced Hope, thy fine discourse Foretold not half life's good to me: Thy painter, Fancy, hath not force To show how sweet it is to be! Thy witching dream And pictured scheme To match the fact still want the power: Thy promise brave-- From birth to grave-- Life's boon may beggar in an hour.
"Ask and receive," 'tis sweetly said; Yet what to plead for know I not; For wish is wasted, hope o'ersped, And aye to thanks returns my thought. If I would pray, I've naught to say But this, that God may be God still; For him to live Is still to give, And sweeter than my wish, his will.
O wealth of life beyond all bound! Eternity each moment given! What plummet may the Present sound Who promises a future heaven? Or glad or grieved, Oppressed, relieved, In blackest night or brightest day, Still pours the flood Of golden good, And more than heartful fills me aye.
My wealth is common; I possess No petty province, but the whole. What's mine alone is mine far less Than treasure shared by every soul, Talk not of store, Millions or more-- Of values which the purse may hold-- But this divine! I own the mine Whose grains outweigh a planet's gold.
I have a stake in every star, In every beam that fills the day; All hearts of men my coffers are, My ores arterial tides convey; The fields and skies And sweet replies Of thought to thought are my gold-dust, The oaks and brooks And speaking looks Of lovers' faith and friendship's trust.