146
WHISPERS 'NEATH THE PALMS.
Sleeping for sadness till Thy south wind came
To wake Thy garden into life and light.
To wake Thy garden into life and light.
A few frail reeds and rushes fringed the shore,
Their bloom and verdure gone, broken and dry,
Fit emblem of a helpless, lifeless thing:
O gracious Master, such a one am I!
Their bloom and verdure gone, broken and dry,
Fit emblem of a helpless, lifeless thing:
O gracious Master, such a one am I!
I watched the white doves pass me in their flight,
And longed for such fleet pinions to be free,
So to escape this stormy wilderness,
And rest for ever, Lord, with Thee—with Thee!
And longed for such fleet pinions to be free,
So to escape this stormy wilderness,
And rest for ever, Lord, with Thee—with Thee!
Mourning, I bowed beside that turbid wave,
Like the poor reed parched in the summer drought,
And learned again a lesson conned before,
Of base things, things despised, and things of nought.
Like the poor reed parched in the summer drought,
And learned again a lesson conned before,
Of base things, things despised, and things of nought.
For softer than the wild dove's plaintive note,
Or voice of many waters, gentle stole
The tender chiding of a wounded Friend,
And its low whisper shook my prostrate soul
Or voice of many waters, gentle stole
The tender chiding of a wounded Friend,
And its low whisper shook my prostrate soul
"And wilt thou also go away, while yet
The whitened fields await the golden morn?
'Canst thou not watch with Me one little hour,'
To cheer some wanderer, weary and forlorn?"
The whitened fields await the golden morn?
'Canst thou not watch with Me one little hour,'
To cheer some wanderer, weary and forlorn?"
And then I answered, "Lord, no skill have I:
My hand is feeble, and my spirit quails.
My hand is feeble, and my spirit quails.
