Poems (Shipton)/Accepted in the Beloved

by Anna Shipton

ACCEPTED IN THE BELOVED.

"The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose."—Isa. xxxv. 1.
"He hath done all things well: He maketh both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak."—Mark vii. 37.

I strove to speak for Thee, sweet Master;
 No word could I falter or frame:
My tears in my shame flowed the faster;
 Dumb lips could not stammer Thy name.

Through many a night-watch I sought Thee,
 My burden before Thee I spread,
And still for the blessing besought Thee:
 Oh, speak, and give life to the dead

Thou knowest the soul I have sighed for,
 But darker and colder it grows,
And faithless this heart Thou hast died for:
 Can this desert e'er bloom as the rose?

One thought in this conflict I cherish,
 It gleams 'mid Thy treasures of grace;
Thou wouldst not that any should perish:
 The light, Lord, is waning apace.

I see but the thistle and brier,
 No beauty the desert adorns:
The branches lie dead for the fire,
 My tears only water the thorns.

I lay down and slept in my sorrow,
 No more could my heart find to say;
I cast all my care of to-morrow
 On Him who bore with me to-day.

My Shepherd His night-watch was keeping,
 He saw me with sorrow oppressed,
And soft on the weary one sleeping
 Arose a sweet vision of rest.

Dark and cold seemed the path I was treading,
 The long, tangled grass round me lay,
The forest trees mournfully shedding
 Their leaves on my desolate way.

The thorn and the bramble abounded,
 The wild, barren waste round me spread;
But sweet in the stillness resounded,
 "The Lord can give life to the dead!"

Low down where the shadow was deep
 I marked a white violet bloom;
(A watch o'er the dead, Lord, thou keepest;
 Thy hand rolled the stone from the tomb.)

The fair buds unfolded before me,
 Though heavy and wet with the rain;
And the message of peace that they bore me,
 I would I could whisper again.

"God searcheth the heart, and He readeth
 Its depths, and its weakness, and fears;
He knoweth the path that He leadeth:
 These flowers were planted in tears.

"The dew of thy heart in thy sorrow
 Fell over the seed. Dost thou see?
Thou art sowing to-day; but to-morrow
 Shalt reap in the harvest with Me.

"My milk and my honey I gather;
 The myrrh-dew is precious as wine:
Accepted in Me by My Father,
 Thy love and thy labor are Mine."

For prayer, like a life-giving river,
 Afar through the wilderness flows,
And faith's feeblest hold is for ever:
 The desert shall bloom as the rose."

The ears of the deaf He will open,
 The tongue of the dumb shall speak plain;
Oh, trust in the word He has spoken:
 Thou never canst trust Him in vain.

My Father, Thy smile beameth o'er me,
 Through Him who still pleads at Thy throne;
Thy child shares His service and glory,
 Accepted in Jesus alone.