It Is Finished

It is Finished
by Bonar

Christ has done the mighty work;
Nothing left for us to do,
But to enter on his toil,
Enter on his triumph too.

He sowed the precious seed,
Nothing left for us unsown;
Ours it is to reap the fields,
Make the harvest joy our own.

His the pardon, ours the sin,-
Great the sin, the pardon great;
His the good and ours the ill,
His the love and ours the hate.

Ours the darkness and the gloom,
His the shade-dispelling light;
Ours the cloud and his the sun,
His the dayspring,ours the night.

His the labor, ours the rest,
His the death and ours the life;
Ours the fruits of victory,
His the agony and strife.

Knocking at the Door

Knocking at the Door.

Behold a stranger standing
Just outside a close barred door;
He's weary with his waiting,
But he will not give it o'er.
He knocks and as he's knocking,
He lifts his heavenly voice,
"Ope the door and let me enter-
I will make your heart rejoice."

I hear his soft voice calling,
Ever calling at the door,
"I'm knocking, sinner, knocking,
As I've often knocked before.
Just ope the door a moment,-
Long enough to let me in, -
And I'll dwell with you forever,
And cleanse you from all sin."

Christ is knocking, gently knocking,
Ever knocking at my heart;
I'll gladly bin him enter,
I will ask him not depart.
Welcome! welcome! blessed Stranger,
Come and sup with me -
Fulfill thy gracious promise, Lord,
And let me sup with thee.

So we'll ever sup together,
This blessed Friend and I;
And if I ever hunger,
He can hear my faintest cry,
And when my warfare's over here
I'll share his heav'nly bliss.
Oh, who could ever bar the door
'Gainst such a friend as this!

The Narrow Way

The Narrow Way
by James Y. Heckler

How many a path that leads astray,
Aside the one which Jesus trod,
Deceives the traveler on his way,
And leads him far away from God.

The narrow path which Jesus trod,
For followers of the Nazarene,
Is wide enough: it leads to God,
And in his word is clearly seen.

The prophet saw this narrow path,
This only way of holiness:
He viewed it with an eye of faith,
As leading through the wilderness.

The path no eagle's eye hath seen,
Is still clear as 'twas of old;
No lion's whelp can walk therein,
And none its pavement can behold.

How many traveler in this vale,
Beholds a path to suit his mind;
A way that leads him down to hell,
To which by nature he's inclined.

How few perceive the narrow way,
Or know the peace therein to find;
But choosing, rather go astray,
To suit the purpose of their mind.

How few compared with all mankind,
Are walking in this narrow path:
The meek and lowly of one mind,
One practice and one faith.

An Illuminated Text

 An Illumined Text.

The gray monk, rising, with a loving pride
Laid the long task of patient months aside,
The simple story of the gospels told
In lettering of crimson and of gold;
On its rich pages streamed the setting sun,
And now his life waned and his work was done.

He pushed away the heavy oaken door,
And stood within the sunset calm once more.
Above the narrowing round of life he knew
A sense of beauty and of wonder grew.
The text his art had copied, " God is Love,"
Came to him like the home-returning dove.

As the wind whistled in the bearded grain;
The tender words made music in his brain;
The green leaves whispered of it, everywhere
He read it on the blue scroll of the air,
As if more clearly and in fairer guise
The Lord Himself inscribed it for men's eyes!

The Birthday Of Christ

THE BIRTHDAY OF CHRIST.

Early on the Christmas morn,
Night her veil had just withdrawn;
Angels chanted loud and clear,
" Wake ! awake ! the Lord is near!"

Now the wise men's weary feet,
Hastened on with step more fleet,
As the voices swelled their lay,
" Christ the Lord is born to-day."

With their eyes fixed on the star
Onward gazed the men afar;
Sweet the angels sang again,
" Peace on earth, good will to men.'

Now the wise men's footsteps stay,
Angels hush their chanting lay;
Joy and adoration blend,
As above the stall they bend.

Think you, in the infant wail,
Heard they echo of the nail
Driven in His tender form?
Did they think for that He's born?

Nay! the halo round His head
Fixed their steadfast gaze instead;
Not alone for death and shame,
Ridicule and scorn and blame;

But as royal Prince of Peace,
Medium of sin's release;
To be glorified He came,
And to glorify God's name. 

Reap And Gather

REAP AND GATHER.

The Savior's heart is yearning
With true compassion deep
For all His wandering children
Who are in sin asleep;
He prays His faithful followers
Their labors to renew,
To reap and glean and gather
The many, not the few.

The path that leads to glory
You have in love been taught;
From ways of death and darkness
To life and light been brought;
You have received so freely
Of love and power and light,
Extend your hand in mercy
And rescue with your might.

Go to the work with gladness
And count it joy to do
With willing heart and purpose
What God requires of you;
Call sinners to repentance,
His kingdom is at hand,
Prepare their souls to meet Him
And in His presence stand.

My Lord And I

My Lord And I
Author Unknown

I tell Him all my sorrows,
I tell Him all my joys,
I tell Him all that pleases me,
I tell Him what annoys;
He tells me what I ought to do,
He tells me what to try,
And so we talk together,
My Lord and I.

He knows how I am longing
Some weary soul to win;
And so He bids me go and speak
The loving word for Him;
He bids me tell His wondrous love,
And why He came to die;
And so we work together,
My Lord and I.

I have His yoke upon me,
And easy 'tis to bear;
In the burden that he carried
I gladly take a share;
For then it is my happiness
To have Him always nigh;
We bear the yoke together,
My Lord and I.

Even As He

 EVEN AS HE

SWEET is the message the gospel brings us,
Message of mercy, full and free,
"We are accepted in the Beloved;
We are beloved even as He."

We are as near, as dear as Jesus;
How can we nearer, dearer be?
We are accepted in the Beloved;
We are beloved even as He.

Why should we ever fear or falter,
Why should we ever anxious be,
If we're accepted in the Beloved,
If we're beloved even as He?

How can my love grow cold or languid
While I can hear His word to me,
I am accepted in the Beloved,
I am beloved even as He?

When I am pressed by sin or Satan,
This is the word that bids them flee,-
I am accepted in the Beloved,
I am beloved even as He.

When I shall cross the fords of Jordan,
This shall my joyful death-song be, -
I am accepted in the Beloved,
I am beloved even as He.

When I shall reach the portals yonder,
This shall my heavenly passport be,-
I am accepted in the Beloved,
I am beloved even as He.

Let Yourself Alone

LET YOURSELF ALONE

Vain and fruitless is the struggle
Self to sanctify;
God alone can cleanse and keep you,
Wherefore should you try?
Oh, the needless cares and conflicts
You had never known,
If you'd learned the simple lesson, -
Let yourself alone.

Let your eyes keep looking upward;
Cease to look within;
All your introspection cannot
Cleanse a single sin.
You will find your best self effort
Vain, and worse than vain,
As the touch of soiled fingers
Only leaves a stain.

Leave your rights and reputation
In the Master's hand.
What though men misunderstand you,
Jesus understands;
He can shield and vindicate you,
Right your every wrong,
Turn the hate of men and devils
Into joy and song.

It is life you need, not labor -
Life that springs from Him;
If you'd have your cup run over,
Fill it to the brim.
All the springs of power and blessing
Flow from yonder throne;
If you'd have them fill and flood you,
Let yourself alone.

God's Best

GOD'S BEST

GOD has His best things for the few:
That dare to stand the test;
God has His second choice for those
Who will not have His best.

It is not always open ill
That risks the promised rest;
The better often is the foe
That keeps us from the best.

There's scarcely one but vaguely wants
In some way to be blest;
'Tis not Thy blessing, Lord, I seek,
I want Thy very best.

And others make the highest choice,
But when by trials pressed,
They shrink, they yield, they shun the Cross,
And so they lose the best.

I want, in this short life of mine,
As much as can be pressed
Of service true for God and man;
Help me to be my best.

I want to stand, when Christ appears,
In spotless raiment dressed,
Numbered among his hidden ones,
His holiest and his best. 

I want, among the victor throng,
To have my name confessed,
And hear my Master say at last,
"Well done, you did your best."

Give me, O Lord, Thy highest choice,
Let others take the rest;
Their good things have no charm for me,
For I have got Thy best!

All Is Not Lost...

All Is Not Lost...

by Susan Coolidge.

In early dawning had come the guest,

And whether from East or whether from West,

The knew not, nor asked, as he stood and bent

At the entrance of the lowly tent:

He had dipped his hand in the bowl of pod,

He had thanked and praised and called it good;

And now between his hosts he sat,

And talked of matters so deep and wise

That Eve looked up from her braiding mat

With wonderment in her beautiful eyes.

"All is not lost," the stranger said,

"Though the garden of God be forfeited;

Still is there hope for the life of man,

Still can be struggle and will and plan,

Still can be strain toward the shining goal

Which trump and becomes his sinewy soul;

Still there is work to brace his thews,

And love to sweeten the hard won way,

And the power to give, and the right to choose,

And-- " he paused; and the rest he did not say.