Quote by Anonymous — “And Underneath Are The Everlasting Arms.”

            When I hear these words spoken, I see a little boy ---- a tired little boy ---- sitting in a church and thinking: I’m so sleepy; but I must keep awake, father will be cross.” Then the lights in the aisle spout flame, the figures in the painted window dance, his head nods, and his eyes close. A minute later they open with a start to find his father’s eyes fixed upon ---- that stern father in whose strenuous life there was no place for a little boy. Even if I close my eyes for one minute father will be angry,” thought the little boy. The preacher droned one. The little boy’s chin sank upon his jacket. When he awoke, his father’s eyes angrily the little boy thought, were again fixed upon him. His father moved; the little boy trembled, and then wonder of wonders! He was lifted from his place; his father’s arms were underneath him, around him. That, without fear ---- indeed with exquisite joy and great confidence ---- the little boy fell asleep in those kind arms.  So, I believe, it will be with us who are older when our time comes.

Musing on Bessie A Stanley

He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who has left the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of earth’s beauty, or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction.

Poem by Anonymous — It Is Better Farther On

I hear it singing, singing sweetly,

Softly in an undertone,

Singing as if God had taught it

“It is better farther on!”

Night and day it brings the message,

Sings it while I sit alone;

Sings so that the heart may hear it,

“It is better farther on!”

Sits upon the grave and sings it,

Sings it when the heart would groan,

Sings it when the shadows darken,

“It is better farther on!”

Farther on?  Oh! How much farther?

Count the mile-stones one by one,

No! No counting ---- only trusting

“It is better farther on!”

Poem by Rev. John F. Chaplain — He Leadeth Me

 In pastures green? Not always; sometimes He

   Who knoweth best, in kindness leadeth me

In many ways where heavy shadows be.

   Out of the sunshine warm and soft and bright ---

Out of the sunshine into the darkest night.

   I oft would faint with sorrow and affright,

Only for this --- I know He holds my hand;

   So whether in the green or desert land

I trust although I may not understand.

And by still waters? No, not always so;

   Ofttimes the heavy tempest round me blow,

And o’er my soul the waters and billows go

   But when the storms beat loudest and I cry

Around for help, the Master standeth by

   And whispers to my soul, “Lo, it is I”

Above the tempest wild I hear Him say,

   “Beyond the darkness lies a perfect day.

In every path of thine I lead the way.”

So whether on the hilltops high and fair

   I dwell, or in the sunless valleys where

The shadows lie --- what matters? He is there.

   So where He leads me, I can safely go,

And in the blest hereafter I shall know

   Why in His wisdom, He hath led me so.

Poem by Martha Snell Nicholson — The Lost Lamb

In the morning I was thoughtless,

Gay and bold,

Scornful of the quiet shelter

Of the fold.

Now at evening there I wondered,

Lost, forlorn,

And my weary feet were bleeding,

Cut and torn.

Then I heard my Shepherd calling,

Seeking me,

But I hid me, frightened, ---wist not

It was He.

But He found me, stooped and raised me

To His breast.

No reproach, He only bade me

Lie and rest.

Through the mountains then He bore me

All the night,

Sweetly cradled me, and soothed me

Till the light.

Then I saw His footprints in the

Morning dew,

And my heart broke, for His feet were

Bleeding too!

Poem by Martha Snell Nicholson — Trust

I have a little yellow bird

Who loves me very much,

And trusts me so he does not fear

My presence or my touch.

And all day long he is content

To hop about and sing,

And then at night he goes to sleep,

His head beneath his wing.

Sometimes I move his cage at night

And bang it all about;

He never bothers to arouse,

Nor take his wee head out

From underneath his little wing.

He feels no least alarm

Because he knows that it is I,

And that I mean no harm.

Thanks for the lesson, little bird.

I wish that I could be

As confident beneath God’s hand,

And rest as trustfully

Through all the hurricanes which beat

About my house of life,

And heed the tender voice which speaks

From out the storm and strife,

“Lo, it is I, be not afraid,

For here upon My breast,

Within a quiet place of peace

You may securely rest.”

Poem by Martha Snell Nicholson — Trusting

You ask how you learn to trust Him?

Dear, child, you just must let go!

Let go of your frantic worry,

And the fears which plague you so;

Let go of each black tomorrow

Which you try to live today;

Let go of your fevered planning,

He knoweth all your way.

Fear not lest your slipping fingers

Let go of you Saviour too, ----

Trusting is only knowing

He’ll not let go of you!

Poem by J. C. Brumfield — A Baby's Secret

I’m just a little feller

Who didn’t make it there;

I went straight to be with Jesus

   But I’m waiting for you here.

Don’t you fret about me Mommy,

I’m of all God’s lambs most blest;

I’d have loved to stay there with you,

   But the Shepherd knows what’s best.

Many dwelling here where I live,

Waited years to enter in,

Struggled through a world of sorrow

   And their lives were marred with sin.

So sweet Mommy don’t you sorrow,

Wipe those tears and chase the gloom,

I went straight to Jesus’ bosom

   From my lovely mother’s womb.

Thank you for the life you gave me.

It was brief, but don’t complain;

I have all of heaven’s glory

   Suffered none of earthling’s pain

Thank you for the name you gave me

I’d have loved to brought it fame;

But if I’d lingered in earth’s shadows

   Might instead have bro’t it shame

Daddy gave me something for you,

It’s our secret, Mommy dear.

Pressed it tight against my forehead,

   Whispered in my tiny ear.

I’ll be waiting for you, Mommy ----

You and Daddy, Bud and Sis.

I’ll be with you then forever ----

   Then I’ll give you Daddy’s kiss.

                        J. C. Brumfield