Pause for Poetry New Every Morning

meadow lake

New Every Morning

by Annie Johnson Flint

Yea, “new every morning,” though we may awake,
Our hearts with old sorrow beginning to ache;
With old work unfinished when night stayed our hand,
with new duties waiting, unknown and unplanned;
With old care still pressing, to fret and to vex,
With new problems rising, our minds to perplex
In ways long familiar, in paths yet untrod,
Oh, new every morning the mercies of God!

His faithfulness fails not; it meets each new day
New guidance for every new step of the way;
New grace for new trials, new trust for old fears,
New patience for bearing the wrongs of the years,
New strength for new burdens, new courage for old,
New faith for whatever the day may unfold;
As fresh for each need as the dew on the sod;
Oh, new every morning the mercies of God!

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You can find my October Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.

I wish you well.

Sandy

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Pause for Poetry The Red Sea Place

meadow lake

The Red Sea Place

by Annie Johnson Flint

Have you come to the Red Sea place in your life,
Where in spite of all you can do,
There is no way out, there is no way back,
There is no other way but through?
Then wait on the Lord with a trust serene
Till the night of your fear is gone;
He will send the wind, He will heap the floods,
When He says to your soul, “Go on.”

And His hand will lead you through–clear through–
Ere the watery walls roll down,
No foe can reach you, no wave can touch,
No mightiest sea can drown;
The tossing billows may rear their crests,
Their foam at your feet may break,
But over their bed you shall walk dry shod
In the path that your Lord will make.

In the morning watch, ‘neath the lifted cloud
You shall see but the Lord alone,
When He leads you on from the place of the sea
To a land that you have not known;
And your fears shall pass as your foes have passed
You shall be no more afraid;
You shall sing His praise in a better place,
A place that His hand has made.

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You can find my August Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.

I wish you well.

Sandy

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Pause for Poetry The Bridge of the Cross

meadow lakeMan fain would build a bridge to God
Across the fathomless abyss
That lies between his earth-bound soul
And heaven’s perfect bliss.

He takes his knowledge, small and vague,
The great inventions he has wrought,
His mightiest efforts, finest plans,
And his profoundest thought.

He binds them with his strands of straw,
His strings of tow, his ropes of sand,
With all the power and the skill
Of cunning brain and hand.

Through swirling mists he strains his eye,
Above the unseen torrent’s roar
He pushes forth the makeshift thing
And hopes to touch the shore.

But when he seeks to cross the chasm
With eager heart and step elate,
He finds his bridge too short to reach,
Too frail to bear his weight.

Oh, baseless dream! Oh, useless toil!
Oh, utter and eternal loss!
For God has laid, to span the void,
His Son upon the cross.

And when man’s broken bridges fall,
And sink into the gulf at last,
Still wide and long and safe and strong,
The bridge of God stands fast.

Annie Johnson Flint

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You can find my March Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.

I wish you well.

Sandy

Pause for Poetry-But God

mountain lake

But God

Annie Johnson Flint

I know not, but God knows; Oh, blessed rest from fear!
All my unfolding days to Him are plain and clear.

Each anxious, puzzled “Why?” From doubt or dread that grows,
Finds answer in this thought; I know not, but He knows.

I cannot, but God can; Oh, balm for all my care!
The burden that I drop his hand will lift and bear,

Though eagle pinions tire — I walk where once I ran —
This is my strength, to know I cannot, but God can.

I see not, but God sees; Oh, all-sufficient light!
My dark and hidden way to Him is always bright.

My strained and peering eyes may close in restful ease,
And I in peace may sleep; I see not, but He sees.

Annie Johnson Flint

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You can find my November Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.

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Pause for Poetry-Be Not Anxious

mountain lake

Be Not Anxious

Annie Johnson Flint

I cannot change the yesterday when I distrusted Thee,

Though all my fears unfounded proved, and shame me now as then;

I cannot promise that my faith will last throughout the night,

Or that, when Thy tomorrow comes, I will not doubt again.

But grant, O faithful Lord and true, that I may trust Thee now,

Just now, each moment of each hour of this Thy present day;

That, looking backward, I may read the record of the past,

And, forward, see Thy steadfast word light all the future way.

With Memory to guard the rear and Faith to lead the van,

And all Thy tested promises like beacon lights to shine,

How can I dread that demon shape of anxious, faithless fear?

For he shall lose his power when I fully trust in Thine.

Annie Johnson Flint

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You can find my September Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.

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Sandy

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Pause for Poetry-Count It Done

Count It Done

Annie Johnson Flint

A father wrote to his son, who was faraway from home;
“I have sent you a beautiful gift, it may be delayed, but ‘twill come;

It is what you have wanted most, and have asked for many days;”
And before the child received the gift he voiced his thanks and praise.

Our Father saith unto us: “Your need shall be supplied;
Ask and receive that your joy be filled, and My joy in you abide.”

Shall we wait to thank till we see the answer to every prayer?
Forbear to praise till we feel the lifted pressure of care?

Nay, let us trust His word and know that the thing is done,
For His promise is just as sure as a father’s to his son.

Annie Johnson Flint

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Pause for Poetry-In Bethlehem

In Bethlehem

Annie Johnson Flint

‘Twas night in little Bethlehem,
All calm and clear and mild,
And tenderly, with voice and touch,
A mother soothed her child;
“Sleep, little one, the day is done,
Why do you wake so long?”
“Oh, mother dear, I seem to hear
A wondrous angel song.”
“Not so, my son, my precious one,
‘Twas but the wind you heard,
Or drowsy call of dreaming bird,
Or osiers by the streamlet stirred
Beneath the hillside trees;
Some bleating lamb that’s gone astray,
Or traveler singing on his way
His weariness to ease.
Rest, little son, till night is done,
And gloomy darkness flees.”
Yet while she spoke the shepherds ran
In haste the road along,
To find the Mother and the Babe,
For they had heard the song.

“Rest, little son, the night’s begun,
Why do you toss and sigh?”
“A brighter star than others are,
O’er yon low roof hangs nigh.”
“Not so, my son, my darling one,
I see no gleaming star
That shines more bright than others are;
‘Tis but a lamp that burns afar,
Or glow-worm’s wandering spark;
Some shepherd’s watch-fire in the night,
Or traveler’s torch that blazes bright
To cheer him through the dark.
Sleep, little son, till night is done,
And upward springs the lark.”
Yet, while she spoke, three kings had come,
Three kings who rode from afar,
To lay their gifts at Jesus’ feet,
For they had seen the star.

And so today, beside our way,
The heavenly portents throng,
Yet some there be who never see
The Star, nor hear the Song.

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Pause for Poetry-Mary and Martha

Mary and Martha

Annie Johnson Flint

Martha was busy and hurried,
Serving the Friend divine,
Cleansing the cups and the platters,
Bringing the bread and the wine;
But Martha was careful and anxious
Fretted in thought and in word,
She had no time to be learning
While she was serving the Lord,
For Martha was “cumbered” with serving,
Martha was “troubled” with “things” –
Those that would pass with the using –
She was forgetting her wings.

But Mary was quiet and peaceful,
Learning to love and to live.
Mary was hearing His precepts,
Mary was letting Him give –
Give of the riches eternal,
Treasures of mind and of heart;
Learning the mind of the Master,
Choosing the better part.

Do we ever labor at serving
Till voices grow fretful and shrill,
Forgetting how to be loving,
Forgetting how to be still?
Do we strive for “things” in possession,
And toil for the perishing meat,
Neglecting the one thing needful –
Sitting at Jesus’ feet?

Service is good when He asks it,
Labor is right in its place,
But there is one thing better –
Looking up into His face;
There is so much He would tell us,
Truths that are precious and deep;
This is the place where He wants us,
These are the things we can keep.

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You can find my November Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.

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Sandy

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Pause for Poetry-But God

But God

Annie Johnson Flint

I know not, but God knows;
Oh, blessed rest from fear!
All my unfolding days
To Him are plain and clear.

Each anxious, puzzled “Why?”
From doubt or dread that grows,
Finds answer in this thought;
I know not, but He knows.

I cannot, but God can;
Oh, balm for all my care!
The burden that I drop
His hand will lift and bear,

Though eagle pinions tire —
I walk where once I ran —
This is my strength, to know
I cannot, but God can.

I see not, but God sees;
Oh, all-sufficient light!
My dark and hidden way
To Him is always bright.

My strained and peering eyes
May close in restful ease,
And I in peace may sleep;
I see not, but He sees.

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You can find my August Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.

I wish you well.

Sandy

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Pause for Poetry-He Giveth More Grace

He Giveth More Grace

Annie Johnson Flint

He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength when the labours increase;
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving is only begun.

Fear not that thy need shall exceed His provision,
Our God ever yearns His resources to share;
Lean hard on the arm everlasting, availing;
The Father both thee and thy load will upbear.

His love has no limits, His grace has no measure,
His power no boundary known unto men;
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again.

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Sandy

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You can find my June Inspire a Fire post here. Please stop by and read it.