with starlight,
I stand with my Lord, face to face.

O, Master, I cry, the old temple,
Thou gavest on earth passed away,
I come to thee houseless, unsheltered,
Hast room in Thy mansion to-day?
I left Mother Earth in the night-watch,
And travelled alone to thy gate,
Hast mercy for me, dearest Master,
Do I plead for thy pardon too late?

Dear Master, sore trials beset me,
My feet slipping oft' by the way,
Temptations and doubt, overwhelming,
From Thee, led me often astray.
My cross was oft' covered with roses,
Just hiding the sly, cruel thorn,
My homestead built out of dust only,
Has crumbled; to-day I am born.

Just born in the light of thy kingdom,
Hast house in thy domain to give?
A homestead to fill with the loved ones,
Where with Thee in peace we may live.
I know that my spirit is earth-stained,
I'd wash it in yon flowing stream,
I've come, oh my Saviour, all broken,
Are hopes to be only a dream?

He turned with a look of compassion,
His voice, as sweet waters and low,
My child, I've a palace built for thee,
Which time nor rude winds can o'erthrow.
I've watched thee in all of thy wanderings,
E'en when thy homestead of clay fell;
I list for thy knock at our portals,
Heard thee faintly ask, "Is all well?"

When doubts have assailed, I would press thee,
In sorrow, stood oft' by thy side;
I've quelled maddened waves as they dashed thee,
Soul, ring heaven's bells and abide.
Thy footsteps shall fall in soft places,
And by mirrored waters can'st roam;
Thy kindred, thy Father, shall greet thee,
To peace, beauty, love,--welcome home.

~Peace.~

Father, before Thee I am kneeling
In gratitude and love,
Sad, weary years I sought, appealing
For succor from above.
My cries seemed wild as unavailing
Before Thy chastening rod,
My spirit in the strife oft failing
To trust Thee, O my God!

When floods of sorrow o'er me sweeping,
Thy hand I could not see;
Then Thou, when heart and strength were yielding,
Bade me to cling to thee.
Strength from Thy promise gave endurance
To stem, to cross the flood;
I thank Thee; rest in blest assurance
Of Jesus' cleansing blood.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Mary Alice Walton

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS ***

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