To Glorify My God

TO GLORIFY MY GOD

To Glorify my God, no lesser aim
My God-given life and powers shall henceforth claim;
My body, soul, and spirit, Lord, are Thine;
The joy to give them back to Thee be mine.

His Father's glory Jesus ever sought;
To do His work and will His only thought;
About His Father's business He must be:
Lord, may Thy business be as much to me.

How best can I my Father glorify?
Naught can be added to His majesty;
But I can let His glory through me shine
And shed on all around His light divine.

And like the legend that they tell of one
Who sought to build a temple to the sun,
And reared the chiseled stone and burnished gold,
But still the splendid walls were dark and cold,

Until another architect appeared;
A temple of transparent glass he reared;
And lo, the sun came down his work to own,
And with his glory through the temple shone;

So let my soul be flooded with Thy light;
So let my heart be open to Thy sight;
So glorify Thyself, O Lord, in me,
Till all my being answers, Lord, to Thee.

My Secret

 MY SECRET

SHALL I tell you what it is that keeps me singing,
Never minding whether it be shade or shine?
Tis because His own glad song is singing in me,
Tis because the Savior's joy is always mine.

Shall I tell you what it is that keeps me springing,
With a strength that smiles at sickness and decay?
Tis because the Life of Jesus fills my being,
And the Living Bread sustains me day by day.

Shall I tell you why my foes no longer vex me,
And my cares and fears and doubtings all are o'er ?
Tis because I've given my burdens all to Jesus,
And He leads me forth in triumph evermore.

Shall I tell you why my life is now so easy?
'Tis because this wretched self has ceased to be;
Once it caused me all my troubles, but it's buried,
And it is no longer I, but Christ in me.

Shall I tell you why I love to work for Jesus?
'Tis because His blessed Spirit works in me;
I have but to let Him use me, His the power,
Mine the recompense to share, the fruit to see.

Shall I tell you why I love to tell of Jesus?
Tis because there's nothing else so good and true;
There's no other name or story worth the telling;
Without Jesus what could helpless sinners do?

Shall I tell you why I'm watching for His coming?
Tis because of all my future He's the sum;
This will be my joy forever - Jesus only -
And I long, and look, and pray for Him to come.

"Harvest-Home"

" HARVEST-HOME" 

by J. Byington Smith

The " harvest-home " we sing with cheer,
Now that abundance crowns the year;
The God of harvests now we praise,
To him our thanks a tribute raise ;
For he our anxious care relieves
While reapers home come bringing sheaves,
Till filled are cellars, barns, and bin,
With harvests which are gathered in.

The seeds, which were by handfuls sown,
Were into richest harvests grown;
And reapers reaped the golden grain
While binders followed in their train,
And wagons each with heavy load
Were seen along the homeward road.

Of old, the reapers of the grain
Over the fields went not again,
But what was left the gleaners had,
So gleaners were with reapers glad;
And reapers, too, must corners leave,
For gleaners also these receive.

This was not something very rare
Of Boaz' field when Ruth was there,
For reapers oft let handfuls fall,
Nor greedy they to gather all;
And well were still this law in force,
And elsewhere in the reapers' course
The handfuls now were lying round
On purpose that they might be found,
Or other reapers be inclined
E'en sheaves of grain to leave behind.

Then all these fruits and ripened grain,
Which often leaves and chaff remain,
Remind that we should let appear
Not leaves alone, but fruit, each year,
And store the soul and heart and brain
Not just with chaff, but ripened grain.

And as by fruits we each are known,
Sow seeds from which the fruits are grown;
And if not known by dress we wear,
But rather by the sheaves we bear,
Should gather up some sheaves each day,
And waste not precious lives away ;
And be prepared, like shocks of corn,
To hail the resurrection mom,
That when for us the reapers come,
Angels shall shout the " harvest-home."