Take a little time to read this slowly...let its message sink in...and then spend some time in the Book of treasures...
The Sacred
Hour
William Blane
O
tell me not of worldly lore
And
treasures of the earth!
To
him who draws from Heaven’s store
They
can be little worth.
I
sail a sea of Love divine,
Unfathomed
and unbound;
I
search a deep and wealthy mine
Where
gems of Heaven are found.
The
Spirit’s breezes gently blow
That
I may sail this sea;
His
is the light to search and show
God’s
deep, deep things to me.
O
Book of wondrous depths and heights,
Of
wisdom ever new,
Which
in ten thousand various lights
Brings
Jesus into view;
Whatever
truths in thee I trace
New
aspects meet mine eye,
And
of His glory and His grace
Page
unto page doth cry!
Of
Science and Philosophy
I’ve
heard the spreading fame;
They’re
broad and deep, and urged, they say,
By
many a pressing claim.
‘Tis
said Philosophy hath charms
Which
prove celestial birth;
That
Science, with distended arms,
Grasps
heaven in grasping earth.
I
know not; neither have I tried
Their
claims to disallow;
A
trusting heart is satisfied
With
neither why nor how.
They
come from God if they be right,
If
true they lead to Him;
But
who would shun the noonday light
To
grope in shadows dim?
And
who would leave the Fountain Head
To
drink the muddy stream,
Where
men have mixed what God hath said
With
every dreamer’s dream?
How
dim is every earthly light
When
suns celestial glow!
No
earthly visions lure the sight
Where
God His face doth show.
‘Tis
sweet in prayer on God to call
While
He my voice doth hear,
But
sweeter when His sayings fall
Upon
my opened ear!
For
this I leave the paths of men
And
shun my friends’ abode;
No
earthly claims can stay me when
My
spirit pants for God!
O
not for wealth, nor fame, nor power,
Nor
love, nor truest friend,
Would
I forego the sacred hour
Which
with God’s Word I spend!
I
steal it from the hours of sleep
If
leisure be not given,
For
only this the soul can keep
In
touch with God and Heav’n.
And thus to
hearken unto Him
For one
sweet, fleeting hour,
Is balm to
wearied heart and limb—
Restoring
grace and power.
Dear Book of
treasures all divine,
My precious,
priceless store!
How rich I am
since thou art mine!
How poor I
was before!