Just to let Him speak to thee Through his word, Watching that his voice may be Clearly heard. Just to tell Him every thing As it rises, And at once to him to bring All surprises. Just to listen, and to stay Where you cannot miss His voice, This is all! and thus to-day, Communing, you shall rejoice. Just to ask Him what to do All the day, And to make you quick and true To obey. Just to know the needed grace He bestoweth, Every bar of time and place Overfloweth. Just to take thy orders straight From the Master's own command. Blessed day! when thus we wait Always at our Sovereign's hand. Just to recollect his love, Always true; Always shining from above, Always new. Just to recognize its light, All-enfolding; Just to claim its present might, All-upholding. Just to know it as thine own, That no power can take away; Is not this enough alone For the gladness of the day? Just to trust, and yet to ask Guidance still; Take the training or the task As He will. Just to take the joy or pain As He lends it; Just to take the loss or gain As he sends it He who formed thee for his praise Will not miss the gracious aim; So to-day, and all thy days, Shall be molded for the same. Just to leave in His dear hand _Little_ things; All we cannot understand, All that stings. Just to let Him take the care Sorely pressing, Finding all we let him bear Changed to blessing. This is all! and yet the way Marked by Him who loves thee best; Secret of a happy day, Secret of his promised rest. --Frances Ridley Havergal. GOD MEANS US TO BE HAPPY God means us to be happy; He fills the short-lived years With loving, tender mercies-- With smiles as well as tears. Flowers blossom by the pathway, Or, withering, they shed Their sweetest fragrance over The bosoms of our dead. God filled the earth with beauty; He touched the hills with light; He crowned the waving forest With living verdure bright; He taught the bird its carol, He gave the wind its voice, And to the smallest insect Its moment to rejoice. What life hath not its blessing? Who hath not songs to sing, Or grateful words to utter, Or wealth of love to bring? Tried in affliction's furnace The gold becomes more pure-- So strong doth sorrow make us, So patient to endure. No way is dark and dreary If God be with us there; No danger can befall us When sheltered by his care. Why should our eyes be blinded To all earth's glorious bloom? Why sit we in the shadow That falls upon the tomb?