God sometimes hangs a curtain
Before our toiling life,
And shuts us in from all the world
Of work and sin and strife,
That He may give, from Hand Divine,
The gift Love only can afford;
And in the solemn quietness
We learn the secret of the Lord.
Yet often we forget His touch
And cry, “O Lord! My tasks await.
Let me be strong; there is so much
I would do at the mercy-gate.”
His answer comes in gentle tones-
“This is thy task alone:
My will discern and truly learn
To say ‘Thy will be done’.”
Ah! Close to Him, our soul’s desire,
So near to God, it seems
That as we muse, His loveliness
Is echoed in our dreams.
Then as the shade is drawn aside
And once again our tasks we face,
We find them joys. Etched on our hearts
Are lines marked by His pen of grace
To make the pattern of our day
More beautiful and bright;
And give us faith in darkness
As a holy candle-light.
I would be but a dewdrop Lord,
Glistening on some flower,
That I may cool a sin-fevered heart
In the morning hour.
Or only a trickling mountain stream
I would contentedly be:
If in the flow of life, Thy grace,
Reflected, men could see.
‘Tis often, Lord, I fain
Would bring a bit of heaven to earth,
Make me a part of the cooling rain
To come in time of dearth.
But if I be a shaded pool,
Some quiet spot to fill,
Help me to wait, in patience still,
Knowing it is Thy will.
O, let this trial like a window be,
That through it I may have a close view of Thee,
It seems to shut me in alone today.
O, help me see beyond its frame, I pray.
Let not my fingers idly touch its pane,
And dully sense the coldness of the glass;
But give my hands a cleaning-cloth of grace,
That as I suffer, I may erase
Each cloudy trace of earthly-mindedness.
Then I shall see Thee better, as each stroke
Will wipe away what seemed to be a yoke—
Thy cross on me. And in the beauty of Thy smile instead,
I will go on; for Thou hast lit the way ahead.
