Praise & Poetry
The Jewel Bright
The Word of God, a jewel bright,
With facets flashing many a light.
If God's Word you wish to know,
Delve the surface, deep below.
Few its hidden meaning see,
Or discern the Yet to be.
Search and find its meaning true,
And a message there for you.
-Henry Sulley
"As to singing, when the matter is scriptural, the music good,
and heart attuned to Praise,
it is a most delightful, soul inspiring and riving exercise-
a spiritual sacrifice of fragrant odour to the Lord."
Brother John Thomas
1847
~
..The principle of selection has, however been somewhat strict.
None but unexceptional compositions have been admitted.
hymns of doubtful character,
from their effeminate style of treating the truth,
or from their approximation to error in their modes of expression, have been excluded.
Only those of unequivocal purity and robustness have been chosen.
This has reduced the number to very small proportions.
Out of nearly five hundred, at first thought admissible,
only about two hundred -
including the bulk contained in the Golden Harp - have been ultimately approved.
This has resulted from the policy expressed in the following words:
"Let the Hymn Book be as free from 'orthodox' taint as possible.
Better to have a small Hymn Book with hymns that can be sung
with the heart and understanding of a Christadelphian,
than a large one with many hymns of doubtful character."
Brother Robert Roberts
Preface to 1869 Hymn Book
~
The appearance of this Hymn Book
marks another stage in the progress of Truth.
The Christadelphians,
or those who have cast off the doctrines of the Romish apostasy,
whether embodied in Papal or Protestant form,
and have embraced the revived gospel of the apostolic age
(the things concerning the kingdom of God,
and the name of Jesus Christ)
and who think it necessary to distinguish themselves from all the sects of
"Christendom" by adopting, in its Greek form,
the name which expresses the relationship of true belivers the
Brethren of Christ (Heb. 2:11)
are now numerous enough to require and provide
a hymn book of the present enlarged dimensions...
(preface by brother Roberts to Golden Harp Hymn Book)
The policy for that hymn book was:
."..Let the Hymn book be as free from
'orthodox' taint as possible.
Better to have a small Hymn Book with hymns
that be sung with the heart and understanding of a Christadelphian,
than a large one with many hymns of doubtful character."
Brother Robert Roberts
March 15, 1869
~
"It is good to sing praises unto our God:
it is pleasant: praise in comely."
It is indeed, beautiful, pleasant, and comely.
Human nature never appears in so lovely an aspect
as when moved by the unaffected sentiment of adoration.
We see little of it in this sterile age, because
"the world lieth in wickedness."
When we do see it,
it is as one of the flowers of heaven springing in the desert.
The desert in this sense shall yet blossom as the rose: and
"the earth shall be full of His praise."
For this, by the power of the Gospel,
we patiently wait in hope, able to endure the present desolation
by the certainty of God's purpose in the matter:
"As truly as I live, the whole earth shall be filled with My glory."
Brother Robert Roberts
The Christadelphian 1887
~
Thy people, Lord, who trust thy word,
And wait the smilings of thy face,
Assemble round they mercy-seat,
And plead the promise of thy grace.
We consecrate these hours to thee,
Thy sov 'reign mercy entreat;
And feel some animating hope,
We shall divine acceptance meet.
Hast thou not sworn to give they Son,
to be a light to gentile lands;
To open the benighted eye,
And loose the wretched prisoners' bands?
Hast thou not said, from sea to sea
His vast dominions shall extend;
That every tongue shall call him Lord,
And every knee before him bend?
Now let the happy time appear,
The time to favor Zion come:
Send forth thy heralds far and near,
To call thy banish'd children home.
The Golden Harp 1865
Our first Hymn Book
~
Thank God for the blessed hope
that the cankering political and social diseases which afflict the world
will be cured by the Great Physician whom he has raised up for the purpose.
Thank him for the prospect of his coming to “destroy them that destroy the earth,”
to redress the grievances of this misgoverned world,
to satisfy the hungering wants of oppressed humanity.
All praise to God that a ruler
will arise whose power will be equal to the forcible repression
of arrogance and despotism on every shore,
whose wisdom will be sufficient for the exigencies of universal dominion,
and whose sympathy will distil to the ends of the earth, healing every wound, drying every tear,
and filling the earth with joy and gladness...
Hail to the brightness of Zion's glad morning!
Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain;
Hushed be the accents of sorrow and mourning,
Zion in triumph begins her mild reign.
Brother Robert Roberts
August 10, 1864.
~
"Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory."
We are but dust, animate for a few years by permission.
We have no claim to honor except such as God may confer.
"Give unto the Lord the glory DUE unto His name."
He doeth whatsoever pleaseth Him in heaven and earth.
There is not an excellence in nature,
there is not a faculty among animals,
there is not a power in man,
there is not a grace in angels,
but what is rooted in Him.
They are all but the flowering of His exquisite wisdom in
the effectual working of His unfailing power.
Praise to Him is reasonable and glorious-
Brother Robert Roberts
The Christadelphian 1887
~
He is kind,
yet inflexible in the requirements of His law;
loving and compassionate,
yet terrible as a destroying fire against the rebellious and the guilty;
forgiving towards offences
yet jealous of the dignity, glory and the supremacy of His name.
He is holy, and cannot look upon sin.
He is wise, and cannot tolerate fools.
He is true and faithful,
and will destroy all the false and perfidious.
He is just and true and perfect -
at once the fountain of love and vengeance;
the author of life and death;
the source of reviving mercy and consuming fire.
He is eternal, unchangeable, infinite, glorious in power and majesty-
the King immortal,
the Possessor of heaven and earth,
to whom alone glory is due -
He is
Yahweh
Men do praise things. It is going on everyday.
They praise beautiful workmanship: they praise disinterested actions:
they praise noble deeds:
They praise many smaller things and some larger.
It is better they should praise small things than praise nothing.
A man who has no praise for anything but his own things:
who has no commendation for anything but himself,
is an abortion of a man.
He lacks the noblest side of man.
Brother Robert Roberts
~
THE POTTER
Stay still in the hand of the Potter
Lie low 'neath His wonderful touch,
He shapeth and mouldeth in mercy,
The clay that He loveth so much.
Surrender thyself to His working,
The curve, the hollow He wills,
Nor shrink from the pain and the pressure,
For the vessel He fashions,
He fills.
My life goes round in empty dreaming,
Never being, always seeming,
Neither day nor night redeeming -
O weary, weary life!
Double in my dreams I'm feeling;
Brain with brain confusion reeling;
Now well, now ill sensations stealing
Across my weakened frame.
Golden Sol's rich rays are telling
Morning joy to many a dwelling;
Here no darkness e'er dispelling
O weary, weary morn!
O ease me of my weary load;
Lay me beneath the soft green sod;
Ashes to ashes. the life to God,
And let me rest in peace.
Hush! saith the still small voice, repining;
He purifies, all good designing;
'Each dark cloud has its silver lining,'
To cheer us in the gloom.
Soon He comes, all ills redressing;
Bearing healing, bearing blessing;
Sufferings ease, and hearts' distressing-
Thou great physician, come!
Past the long, long night of weeping,
Life its harvest now is reaping,
Earth its jubilee is keeping
In universal song.
Brother John Foreman
(written several days before falling asleep after a long illness)
~
There is no God, the speaker cries,
Don't let your thoughts be chained.
This Universe evolved itself,
The world is self-contained,
Just then an urchin in the crowd
a skillful pebble throws,
which accidentally lands upon
the atheistic nose.
"Who threw that stone" the speaker roars;
at which the cockney elf,
intuitively keen, retorts
"No one ! it frew itself."
So a pathetic casualty
discomforted and worse
goes home to meditate upon
this causeless Universe !
~
JERUSALEM
These beautiful lines were written by a Jewish brother many years ago,
and forwarded to The Christadelphian for publication by Sister. E. Thomas in 1880
Ancient of cities! admired of the nations!
Rest of Jehovah! His chosen delight;
Well may we mourn thee with sad lamentations
Fallen thy greatness and faded thy light:
And the rainbow of promise that gleamed on thy brow
Is hid by the cloud that hangs over thee now!
Land of the Prophet whose mystic revealings
Dimly enlighten all tribes but thine own!
Thine are the records of wonderful dealings,
Lost or unmarked by thy children alone:
And strangers and aliens, whilst they are forlorn
Rejoice in the birthright to which they were born!
Land of the minstrel! so sadly forboding
Woe after woe on thy children and thee;
Linked with the joy, and its sweetness corroding,
Just as the blight-worm is linked to the tree.
And the poet e'en now, when he touches his lyre,
Must wake at thine altar the spark of his fire.
Land of the martyr! whose seed, sown in weakness,
Is whitening the earth with a harvest of grace-
Thine was the worship, all gorgeous with splendour,
Trumpets and cymbals, and anthems of praise:
'Twas in thy wide cradle Messiah was lain
And in thee for the sins of the people was slain.
Where is the outcast that shared in thy glory?
Where is the lost one so favoured of yore?
Driven from thy temple, its stones lie unbuilded,
Banished thy vineyards, they blossom no more!
And the soil that enamel'd with verdure thy lawns,
Now he is an exile, bears briars and thorns.
Vainly the infidel plants on thy border
Corn for his garner, or grapes for his cup;
Dew from the Lord is withheld, that must water,
Blights are around thee, that wither it up:
And the land in her Sabbath is waiting the day
When the dew shall return, and the desert look gay.
'Twas not for him thou wast placed in the sunlight,
Gilding thy temples and painting thy flowers,
Lebanon's cedars have languished before him,
Carmel and Sharon look sere in their bowers.
And sower and reaper but labour in vain,
And wealth may not purchase that splendour again.
Sadly the wanderer mourns thee, in absence;
Waking or sleeping, his home is in thee;
Feeds on the water and bread of affliction,
A proverb, reproach and byword is he!
Poor child! and the stranger that looks on thee now
Reads the price of his sin in the brand on thy brow.
Weary of wandering and worn with oppressions,
Own'd of no country, and favour'd by few!
Who shows thee a kindness to lighten thine exile?
Or yields to thy sorrow the sympathy due?
In the hour of affliction mankind is thy foe,
And no brother hast thou but the brother in woe.
Who could not weep to behold thee degraded!
Beauteous for station, the joy of the earth!
If I forget thee in my exaltation,
Yea if I hold thee not chief in my mirth-
Then may my right hand her cunning forget,
And my tongue in the silence of sorrow be set!
Lift up thine eyes to this burthen'd horizon,
Child of the promises, what dost thou see?
Bright golden streaks growing wider and brighter,
Break through the darkness and gleam upon thee.
And the shaking of nations in nature's last groan,
Is paving the way of thy King to his throne!
He comes! O Jerusalem! wake from thy slumbers,
And shake off the dust that encumbers thy strength,
The dust of defilement long years have roll'd in thee;
The day of redemption dawns on thee at length.
Thy temple shall rise from its ruins more bright,
And the nations around thee shall walk in thy light.
He comes! O thou daughter of mourning and sadness
Awake, and put on thy bridal array!
He comes to restore thee to glory and gladness,
Rejoice in the message he brings thee to-day:
In a moment of wrath thou wast hidden from me,
But with love everlasting have I loved thee!”
~
This poem was written by a brother in Texas in 1898 upon
hearing of the death of brother Roberts;
submitted by brother Joe Banta, of Texas
The Death of Brother Roberts
He sailed across the briny deep
From far Australia's shore; -
He hoped to see his native land -
Fair England yet once more;
And as the stern Almada stopped
In San Francisco Bay,
The floating clouds like rugged cliffs
Sent back a sparkling ray.
And as each passenger stepped forth
And each his way he trends,
He grasped the hands to him upheld, -
The loving hands of friends!
Each gave his hand a friendly grasp,
Alike old age and youth;
For each one knew this man to be
A champion of the Truth!
“You must remain,” to him they say.
As they the story tell,
“From fall of man to future bliss -
Of him thou lovest well!”
So one day passed; another came, -
He took the servant's part,
And tributes grand to God on high
Proceeded from his heart.
He told of Israel's glorious Hope -
The Gospel pure and blest,
Then sought his room; for tired he felt
And longed for sleep and rest!
The night had come, the starlit sky,
Alike o'er sea and land,
Perhaps called forth the thought: “How like
When shepherds wondering stand!”
When they in wonder stood and heard,
A message grand, sublime:
“Glory to God on earth, good will
To men” - for endless time.
This was his hope, The Gospel Hope,
The saints redeemed and blest,
With Christ as King on David's throne,
The earth in beauty dressed!
For this perhaps he breathed a prayer,
Upturning gentle eyes
To God; while all the twinkling stars
Looked downward from the skies!
For truly their life's evening hour
Soft fading did descend
That told although he knew it not
His life was at an end!
Ah! Could it be so far from home?
From wife and household kin?
Ay, yes! The mist from the “mystic sea,”
Came gently stealing in!
He was alone - no loved ones near
To grasp his pale white hand!
So think at once the shadows fall: -
Gone to the Silent Land.
There to remain till Christ shall come
To wake the sleeping dead
Then with the saints of God come forth,
To life eternal led!
Then let us cease to weep and mourn
For him in deep repose; -
The good he wrought, like a gentle stream
Far in the future flows!
Brother L. J. Passmore
October 18, 1898
~
Brother David Brown wrote many of the hymns we still enjoy today:
Anthem: Yahweh Elohim; Hymns: Glory and blessing be ever ascribed by Thee; We come, O God, to bow before thy throne; Jesus, thou son of righteousness; Lord, we wait the time of blessing; The vision tarrieth not; Be careful for nothing, the time is at hand;
Most glorious things are spoken jerusalem of thee ; Uncreate Unity & Inspirer of the ancient seers
Adonai Yahweh
(He shall be Rulers)
Exalted on the eternal Zion,
Adonai Yahweh stands,
Of Judah's tribe the lion!
Her armies he commands.
He comes to break oppressions,
To set his captives free,
To pardon their transgressions,
To seal their liberty.
He comes to rule the nations,
In judgment and in might,
The captain of salvations,
The Lord of life and light.
The roarings of his ire,
The heavens and earth shall hear;
Hailstones, and coals of fire,
Shall fill the world with fear.
Once in his flesh of weakness,
The spirit bearer came,
To preach, in words of meekness,
The gospel of his Name.
Now, as a son of power,
The Spirit-Lord appears,
To bring the bride her dower,
And wipe away her tears.
Once in the streets of Eden
His gentle accents fell,
Revealing things long hidden,
To his own Israel.
Now His quick tones of thunder,
Each haughty ear shall know,
And all despisers wonder,
And perish, wailing woe.
Once, in a still, small voice,
He taught the ways of peace,
And bade “the poor” rejoice,
In hope of sin's release.
Now, as the sound of waters,
He speaks, and it is done;
He bares His arm for slaughters,
The Living Man of One.
The One, of His creation,
The One He died to save
From death and hell's damnation-
The victors o'er the grave.
The children of His likeness,
The brethren of His name,
The body of His brightness,
Is thick with burning flame.
The first fruits of His passion,
The purchase of His blood,
The martyrs of confession,
The kings and priests for God.
Sing, ye redeemed, His praises,
Hail Jesus, King of Kings!
His glory your defence is,
His strength, your covering wings.
His righteousness possessing,
Adonai of the East!
Yours is the house of blessing,
Yours is the marriage feast.
Brother David Brown
1866
~
Yahweh Elohim
Yahweh Elohim.
When shall we see the sign of Thy coming?
When shall it be?
We labor today,
Thy rest to attain,
We watch and we pray
Thy Aion to gain;
We wait for Thy token,
We know Thou art nigh!
The Scripture hath spoken
in sure prophecy.
The dead saints are sleeping
In dust of the earth:
Thy living ones weeping,
How long to the birth!
Glorious in holiness,
Conquer the grave;
Speak thou in righteousness,
Mighty to save.
The Lord arm awake,
And shine forth as light,
The mighty power take,
Thine is the right;
Thine, Israel's kingdom,
Thine, David's throne,
Thine the dominion
O'er nations alone.
Yahweh Elohim,
Hear when we call,
Reveal thy cherubim,
-Be all in all.
These are the words to our anthem Yahweh Elohim:
Words by Brother David Brown, music, by brother James Flint
~
Brother James Flint was baptized with his wife, Selina in 1864, in Birmingham. Being part of the infant ecclesia there, brother Flint immediately became useful with his musical talent. He was appointed leader of song, and the ecclesia met every Wednesday evening "for the cultivation of singing". Brother Roberts referred to "the advent among us of a musical family who led us in our singing with a flute, violin and basso" in the Christadelphian. The ecclesial orchestra included Brother Henry Flint - flute, bro .James Drew - cornet, bre. Thomas Webster and Robert King violins, and Brother Charles Jennings - harmonium. Bro Flint senior decided on the tunes to be used, some of which are found in the Golden Harp, the first Christadelphian Hymn Book, and are many still being used as hymns of praise today.
Brother Henry, mentioned above, was baptized soon after his parents; James junior in 1865 and William in 1866. William soon left England for Australia in search of work. Today, it is in Perth, Australia, that his granddaughter now lives - Sister Pat Ullman, the sister wife of brother John Ullman.
Brother James Flint wrote the music to the following Hymns:
Glory and Blessing be, ever ascribed to thee. (First published in the Golden Harp)
Beyond where Kedron's waters flow; Jesus thou son of righteousness; Light of them that sit in darkness; For Zion's sake I will not rest; Hark ten thousand thousand voices;
and this beautiful anthem: Yahweh Elohim
~
This poem was written by brother Roberts in 1874 when his only sister in the flesh died in childbirth, and is a rare glimpse into his sorrowing heart.
Here, he describes her encouragement to him when he was young, planting his feet upon the rock of Truth,
and then the sadness in witnessing her struggle in an unhappy marriage -
at last he describes his pain in the loss when she fell asleep - leaving him without his sweet and loving sister.
ASLEEP
Sweet Sister, thou art laid to rest; the event
To thee is good, yet I am pierced with sorrow.
I grieve not altogether at the loss
Of another comfort in this time of evil,
While lingers still the night, and the sun
Which thou had'st hoped for
Is yet unrisen. This is a bitter sorrow:
For thou hadst been to me from early youth
A guide and counsellor, in days
When light of knowledge was to me all dark.
My swerving footsteps thou did'st hold
With sisterly encouragement, in ways
That led to wisdom and the battle
'Twixt good and ill, that roars around each one
Who plants his feet on rocks the everlasting.
But my groans
Are more for Thee than for my own bereavement:
I grieve at the remembrance of thy troubled day.
Much trouble to thy lot hath fallen;
Little hast thou known of strength or rest, or joy;
Thy way hath toilsome been; more than they share
Of burden and of bitterness did fall to thee.
At this I grieve,
Yet faith assures me all is right that comes
To those who put their trust where thine was placed.
Not willingly doth the Father bring affliction;
As a father, pitieth He the woes
Of those who fear before Him;
Therefore I trust, while sorrowing o'er thy loss.
But the bleak and wintry day now closed,
Yet stirs compassion and enrobes thy memory
With a sadness which seeks vent in tears.
In the midst of all thy sorrow, thou did'st hope the hope
that God hath given the sons of men through Christ:
Yet even this hath in thy latter years been marred
By clouds and separations in thy dearest circle,
Concerning Him who is our hope on high;
At this my spirit groans more deeply.
Yet I comfort take.
Thou art hid in shadow of the Almighty's wing;
Thy sleep is undisturbed by thoughts of care,
Or grief that ways of friendship which thou lov'dst
Do not prevail as we would wish them to,
And as they will prevail, when stands on earth
The Earth's Redeemer and the Friend of Man.
Thou restest sweetly from thy day of toil;
Short, short to thee the rest will be,
However long the bridegroom tarries;
Night is past to thee. When next
Thou op'st thine eyes, the glorious morning
Will have dawned. The Master will have come,
And he to him will, doubtless, call thee
To the rest and joy and gladness which are his,
And for which thou here hast hoped continually.
Then shall we meet when sorrow shall have passed away.
We who still the battle brave
Will take this comfort, and continue
In the way that trembleth full of promise,
Though charged this meantime with affliction.
O Lord, the stroke is heavy!
O Lord, thy will be done!
Brother Robert Roberts
1874
~
“BEHOLD, THE BRIDEGROOM COMETH!”
Hark ! a cry is made, what means that sound I hear?
Quickly again 'tis echoed upon my listening ear:
“The Bridegroom comes!” Oh joyful! is he come at last?
Is the morning truly dawning? is the night for ever past?
Shall we now be ever with him?-shall he raise us to his throne?
Shall he change these mortal bodies?-make them like unto his own?
Shall we see his glorious presence?-hear his greatly longed-for voice?
Oh quickly spread the tidings! let all his saints rejoice!
Yes, the groanings of his people he hath heard from ev'ry land,
And now he comes to free them, in power to make them stand.
They that with him have borne his cross shall share with him his crown,
For now he'll reign whose right it is-the ancient thrones cast down.
The Bridegroom near approaches-he's even at the door;
Haste, let your glad hosannahs our glorious Head adore.
The time long promised has arrived, when earth again shall bloom,
Again shall yield her richest fruits, again for joy make room.
Lo! art thou he we long have loved, though ne'er till now have seen?
Thy love to us, most wonderful, the source of ours has been.
How gloriously fair thou art! thy beauty all divine!
Can it be so, that such as we, made like to thee shall shine?
Oh had we known but half thy worth, but half thy beauty seen,
The treasures of thy love and power had oftener been our theme.
While trav'lling through the wilderness; thou say'st we've borne for thee,
Ah! thou didst suffer more for us, even death upon the tree.
We've sojourned long as strangers within a foreign land,
The world around disowned us, by thee we took our stand;
They knew not thee, they knew not us-and no abiding place
We knew, but this we knew, that soon we'd see thee face to face.
Oft in the darkness of the night we longed to hear thee say:
“This is the thing I'd have thee do-I'd have thee go this way;”
And often in perplexities, we sighed for morning light,
For we knew when thou appearedst, faith would give place to sight.
And now that thou art come to us, how greatly we rejoice!
Like John of old, we now can say, we hear the Bridegroom's voice.
Throughout the world the cry shall run, with gladness all shall fill,
“Glory to God! and peace on earth, towards mankind good-will.”
Now the kingdoms of the world are the kingdoms of our Lord;
Now the ploughshare and the pruning hook replace the glittering sword;
Now peace and plenty fill the earth, now righteousness shall reign,
And never more shall pain and tears afflict our world again.
A Daughter of Sarah
1880
~
The Bible..
is the best hymn book ever published;
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the richest will and testament ever put on parchment;
the most sure word of prophecy extant;
the safest guide book ever printed;
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the infidel's direst enemy;
the mortal foe of every form of superstition and priestcraft;
the sworn adversary of all unrighteousness and corruption;
the only inspired revelation of the mind and purpose of God;
the only satisfactory explication of the phenomena of existence, sin, and death;
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the only book that can declare the end from the beginning;
the only book that can make wise to salvation;
the only programme of events for a thousand years to come;
the only glad tidings that can purify the heart,
revolutionize the mind,
and make ready a people for the coming of the Lord.
Brother F.R. Shuttleworth
1872
~
Of things which we so careless name,
How little kindles to a flame;
The unruly tongue no man can tame.
“They say” (and so it must be true,)
What would, did we but rightly view,
Prove false and vanish as the dew.
Abroad from lip to lip it flies,
And reaches, soon, a wondrous size,
As mountains, oft, from mole-hills rise.
Far better rob one of his gold;
For this could be restored four-fold;
But never what is wrongly told.
As in the lightning's path we find
Its scathing tracks are left behind;
So is this influence on the mind.
Then deem it not a little thing;
A whisper borne on silent wing,
May reach a heart that feels its sting;
Nor think ye lightly of the deed,
Broadcast to fling the poisonous seed,
That springs to many a deadly weed.
Thou hypocrite! Why vainly try,
From motes to free thy brother's eye;
First, in thine own the beam descry.
As if a fabric thou couldst rear,
Of other's faults, thyself to clear;
More guilty thus dost thou appear.
O that we could that lesson learn;
From everything away to turn,
But what does only us concern.
Then should we know and see and hear,
The more of joy, the less of fear,
And half our trials disappear.
A richer harvest we should reap,
A better record angels keep,
And many smile, where now they weep.
How much we've spoken ill or well,
Whether to wound or soothe it fell,
Eternity alone can tell!
O then how wilt thou be o'erwhelmed,
Though well the current thou has stemmed,
If by thy words thou art condemned
“Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.”-Shakespeare.
[No- not life, but human life.
Life is eternal in God and He will give it back to those who please Him.
How we can do this has been revealed.
See the apostolic writings.
Brother Robert Roberts
The Christadelphian
1889
~
What shall I wish thee in the coming year?
Health, wealth, prosperity, good cheer?
Nay, God gives better things than these,
And I would wish for thee His very best.
Always His blessing o'er thee,
Always His presence with thee,
His strength, joy, peace and rest.
Sister A. L. Edwards
The Christadelphian
1925
~
Where all goes well, where life is smooth,
Where joy and mirth abound,
Where health, and strength, and youth and friends,
Shed constant light around-
There, danger lurks, although unseen,
Of losing faith in God.
And there, if we are loved, we feel
Our Father's chastening rod.
Where pain, or loss, or sorrow comes;
Where friends are forced to part;
Where grief, and care, and trouble are,
Almost to break the heart-
These are but blessings, though unseen,
To draw us close to God,
Increase our faith, renew our zeal:
'Tis love that guides the rod.
Then may the Lord our paths direct,
Since He knows what is best,
Blend light and shade, mix storm and calm,
And put us to the test;
Thus may our hearts be well attuned,
And firm our faith in God;
Then through the endless ages, we
Shall bless our Father's rod.
Ps 55:19
He is kind,
yet inflexible in the requirements of His law;
loving and compassionate,
yet terrible as a destroying fire against the rebellious and the guilty;
forgiving towards offences
yet jealous of the dignity, glory and the supremacy of His name.
He is holy, and cannot look upon sin.
He is wise, and cannot tolerate fools.
He is true and faithful,
and will destroy all the false and perfidious.
He is just and true and perfect -
at once the fountain of love and vengeance;
the author of life and death;
the source of reviving mercy and consuming fire.
He is eternal, unchangeable, infinite, glorious in power and majesty-
the King immortal,
the Possessor of heaven and earth,
to whom alone glory is due -
He is
Yahweh
~
TO THE BIRDS OF SUNNY SIDE
Sing on, wild birds! your joyous lay
Beguiles me with its happy strain,
And thoughts of scenes now far away
Bring back dear memories again
Of melodies, whose hallowed spells
The heart for ever will retain
Though years re-echo the farewells
Of those we may not meet again.
Sing on, sweet birds! your notes recall
Dear dreams of joy that never dies,
And gleams of love that still enthral
With glamor of beloved eyes-
Dear eyes that shed their soul's full beam
On all that makes life's light impart
A reflex of the glorious gleam
That sends its sunshine to the heart.
Your gladsome songs, O, happy birds!
Remind me of life's spring - time bright:
My English home, love's old sweet words -
The music of the heart's delight;
When love's fond smile was ever near
To deck the hour with golden hue,
That gives its grace to all things dear:
Its hope, its faith to all things true!
-W.N. Watson
A man hath joy by the answer of his mouth: and a word spoken in due season, how good is it!
Prov 15:23
298
"... and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear:"
1 Pet 3:15
The response Brother Roberts gave to Mr. Watson-
TO THE OWNER OF SUNNYSIDE
Go on, good sire, complete the work
So nobly done in bygone years,
Let not illusions sweetly burke
The fruit of labor, love, and tears;
The hallowed spells of wild birds' song
May soothe a passing moment's pain,
They have no power to right the wrong
Or bring the dead to life again.
The thoughts they stir within the breast,
The reveries that o'er us steal:
They leave no lasting gift of rest,
They give no solid boon of weal;
"Dear dreams" of love are not enough-
We need a love that never dies-
Our lives are made of sterner stuff
Than solace finds in wild bird's cries.
Oh, turn your eyes with forward quest;
Forget the things that lie behind:
The future holds more joy and rest
Than ever warmed a mortal mind;
While listening to the feathered muse,
While looking back the way you've trod,
Expand the mind to nobler views-
Lay hold on Christ, look up to God!
Brother Robert Roberts
Diary of a Voyage pg 87
Mr. Watson became a brother in Christ.
My Shepherd is the Lord and nothing shall I need;
He leads me by His word,
In pastures green to feed:
Where founts of living waters flow,
There maketh He my feet to go.
My life He will restore, And bring me to the goal,
Where death hath no more pow'r,
Upon the righteous soul:
Of those who now His name confess:
And wear the robe of righteousness;
Yea! though my feet must tread, Where death's dark shadows fall,
No evil will I dread,
No fears shall me appal-
Thy strong right hand is still with me;
Thy rod and staff my stay shall be.
For me Thou dost prepare, Before mine enemies,
A table rich and rare,
Spread with all goodliness:
With oil Thou dost anoint mine head
And with Thy wine my cup is fed
Thy loving kindnesses, Thy mercies ever flow;
They, day by day, me bless,
And no cessation know:
And thus I will Thy goodness tell,
When in Thy house my feet shall dwell.
The Christadelphian 1883
~
The Foolish Took No Oil
'Twas not enough that they had lamps,
Nor yet that they the lamps had lighted;
There were ten virgins thus prepared,
Yet there were five whose claims were slighted.
The night is long, and the night air damp,
Is there oil in your vessel with your lamp?
The midnight cry rings through the air,
Behold, he comes, go out and meet him;
But how shall those foolish five go
With such faint flickering lights to greet him?
There is death to them in the gladsome shout,
For, behold, their lamps are going out.
The careless are in earnest now,
They go to buy what they may not borrow,
And they will give an untold price
For a little oil. Ah! woe and sorrow,
Their diligence is all too late,
They are ready now - but, he did not wait.
The door is shut. Only just shut!
Surely a little grace he'll show them?
"Lord, Lord," they cry, "open unto us!"
He answers that he does not know them.
When once the Master has shut the door,
No one can open it forevermore.
'Tis not enough to have learned Christ,
Nor yet that we to him have plighted
Our faith. Except it still abide,
And GROW in him, the branch is blighted.
Does he tarry long?
Let us the more be striving to make our election sure.
The Christadelphian 1884
~
“MARRIAGE INDISSOLUBLE.”
“ I had a few fragmentary ideas on the events immediately connected with Christ and his Bride
when we are called to the judgment,
and I began to transfer them to paper under the title of “ Espousals. ”
But I felt that the subject could not be suitably rendered in prose:
it was too leaden for such a theme.
So I attempted a metrical rendering.
It is only an attempt: still, I will send it, although I shall not be at all surprised
if you either do not use it or alter it. The theme is delightful. I have revelled in its contemplation. ”- The Writer.
Bride. -Hark! 'Tis the voice of my loved. Yes, 'tis he.
Bridegroom. -My Fairest one, come forth. The wintry clouds are past,
Night's shadows flee. Come forth, my dove,
That I thy face may see. The storm subsides,
The morning dawns. Arise thou and come away.
Bride. -Is this a vision that I see? It is the Lord.
A sweet reality. My heart be still,
Await his will.
My Lord, I see thee face to face and know
E'en as I'm known. My joy is full, and faith is lost in sight.
When summoned to thy presence, the tension of
Expectancy relaxed so quick, that for
The moment, I was almost stunned, and then
The angel gave me strength and sweet assurance
Of his mission. Fear, joy, suspense held me
Entranced. With strange precision my life stood out
Before me, like some bold promontory
At sunset, with rugged outline, sterile heights,
Seams, chasms, all disclosed. Flashes of duty done
Gave place to thoughts of waywardness
And oft repeated failures, and these in turn
Dimm'd off before the hope of mercy and forgiveness.
I thought of all thy sweetness and compassion.
And then again I loved thee so. And with this thought
I girded up my loins and felt that I could stand.
Bridegroom. -My heart was ever with thee. I longed
With strong desire the day of thy perfection.
Thy love and loyalty to me, are now
Thy Bridal robes, and ornaments most costly.
Orient gems, fit emblem of thy purity,
Circle thy brow, while chains of beaten gold
Entwine our hearts to throb in unison.
How fair thou art, my love! How passing fair!
Bride. -My lord, 'tis but the reflex of thy auty.
Thou art resplendent. A sun dismantled
Of his storm clouds, whose beams have found
A resting place in me.
Bridegroom. -Clear as the sun. Fair as the moon
Effulgent with one light.
Bridge. -My Lord, what means this transformation scene?
When I arrived at Sinai, it was a desert
Great and terrible.
With scorching rocks and arid plains,
Whose silence was disturbed by noises
Weird and horrible.
And when the eye sought out some object, to
Relieve the stern sublimity of solitude,
Some dismal creature stalked abroad
With piteous moan that made the dreary
Scene more drear. Or dancing satyr held
Nocturnal revelry. Or beast of prey
Howled over ravin wolfishly.
And hill tops far and near caught up
The hideous wail. Such gloom. Such horror.
I stood awaiting thine approach
With phalanx right and left, an angel guard.
Somehow, I seemed adjusted to the
Splendid scene of terror.
I could not utter what I felt, but still
I did not faint. I waited. Then I saw
'Midst retinue of angels bright and fair,
Thy Majesty.
My soul, the moment was supreme,
I sought some token of thy mind,
And then gave audience to thy words.
Ne'er mortal ear was greeted with such love
And admiration. The angels grew
Exultant, and with glad acclaim declared
That thou and I were altogether lovely,
When lo! as if to emphasize the charm
Dread Sinai became a smiling Eden.
What meaneth it?
Bridegroom. -The earnest of the Father's sbidal gift is this,
Which, emblematic of thine own transition,
I changed into a floral paradise.
Bride. -'Tis like thyself to weave for me this Eden
Of enchantment. What can I offer thee
Of value rare enough?
Bridegroom. -The dear delight thy presence yields
Exceeds all other gifts. Thy love to me
Is sweeter far than thy love's token.