Poem by Horatius Bonar — For A Night

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.   Psalm 30:5

‘Tis first the true, and then the beautiful

Not first the beautiful and then the true.

First the wild moor, with rock and fen and pool

Then the gay garden rich in scent and hue .

Not first the glad and then the sorrowful

But first the sorrowful and then the glad,

Tears for a day, for earth of tears is full,

Then we forget that we were ever sad.

Not first the bright and after that the dark,

But first the dark and after that the bright;

First the thick cloud, and then the rainbow’s arc,

First the dark grave, then resurrection light.

‘Tis first the night, stern night of storm and war

Long night of heavy clouds and veiled skies,

Then the far sparkle of the Morning Star

That bids the saints awake and dawn arise."

Poem by WIlliam Sharp — Perfect Peace

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.   Philippians 4:7

It lives not on the sunlit hill

Nor on the sunlit plain;

Nor even on any running stream

Nor on the unclouded main ----

But sometimes through the soul of man

Slow moving o’er his pain,

The moonlight of a perfect peace

Floods heart and brain

Poem by John Bunyan — To Be A Pilgrim

They were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.   Hebrews 11:13

 He who would valiant be

Gainst all disaster,

Let him in constancy

Follow the Master.

There’s no discouragement

Shall make him once relent

His first avowed intent

To be a pilgrim.

Who so beset him round

With dismal stories,

To but themselves confound ----

His strength the more in

No lion can him fright;

He’ll with a giant fight

But he will have the right

To be a pilgrim.

Since, Lord, Thou dost defend

Us with Thy Spirit,

We know we at the end

Shall life inherit.

Then, fancies, flee away!

I’ll fear not, what men may say,

I’ll labor night and day

To be a pilgrim.

Prayer by Phillips Brooks

O Lord, by all thy dealings with us, whether of joy or pain,of light or darkness, let us be brought to Thee. Let us value no treatment of Thy grace simply because it makes us happy or because it makes us sad, because it gives us or denies us what we want; but may all that Thou sendest us bring us to Thee, that knowing Thy perfectness we may be sure in every disappointment that thou art still loving us, and in every darkness that thou art still enlightening us, and in every enforced idleness that Thou are still using us;yea, in every death Thou art giving us life; as in His death thou didst give life to Thy Son our Saviour, Jesus Christ

Quote by Peter Marshall

Peter Marshall former chaplain of the U.S. Senate prayed at one time as he began his daily official duty:

"Lord Jesus, thou who art the way, the truth, and the life; hear us as we pray for the truth that shall make us free. Teach us that liberty is not only to be loved but also to be lived. Liberty is too precious a thing to be buried in books. It costs too much to be hoarded. Help us to see that our liberty is not the right to do as we please, but the opportunity to please to do what is right."

Poem by George Matheson — Make Me A Captive

Make me a captive, Lord,

And then I shall be free;

Force me to render up my sword,

And I shall conqueror be,

I sink in life’s alarms

When in myself I stand;

Imprison me within Thine arms,

And strong shall be my hand.

My heart is weak and poor

Until it master find;

It has no spring of action sure----

It varies with the wind.

It cannot freely move

Till Thou hast wrought its chain;

Enslave it with Thy matchless love,

And deathless it shall reign.

My power is faint and low

Till I have learned to serve;

It wants the needed fire to glow,

It wants the breeze to nerve;

It cannot drive the world

Until itself be driven;

Its flag can only be unfurled

When Thou shalt breathe from heaven.

My will is not my own

Till Thou has made it Thine;

If it would reach a monarch’s throne

It must its crown resign;

It only stands unbent

Amid the clashing strife,

When on Thy bosom it has leant

And found in Thee its life.

                                                

Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow — I Heard Him Call

I heard Him call ----

“Come, follow,” that was all.

My gold grew dim

My soul went after Him

I rose and followed, that was all.

Who would not follow

If they heard Him call?

Him evermore I behold

Walking in Galilee ,

Through the corn-fields’ waving gold,

In hamlet, or grassy world.

By the shores of the Beautiful Sea ,

He touched the sightless eyes

Before Him the demons flee;

To the dead He sayeth, Arise!

To the living, Follow Me!

And that Voice still soundeth on

From the centuries that are gone

To the centuries that shall be.