"Ye cannot serve God and Mammon."



TRYING of earth to drink thy fill,

And yet to keep some hold on heaven,
Dost wonder thou art doubting still,
Without the joy of sin forgiven ?

List for the Saviour speaks to thee-
"Thou canst not serve the world and Me."

While trifles here possess thy heart,

For Him who asks thee for the whole
Thou still wouldst keep a little part.
That Friend who died to save thy soul
Now waits and whispers tenderly-
"Thou canst not serve the world and Me."

Canst thou resist this voice which pleads
With love and sorrow in its tone?
Turn while a Saviour intercedes

For thee before His Father's throne.
At Jesus' name each knee must bow;
Come, while He calls in mercy now.



The Voice in the Twilight.

Resign thy all unto the Lord

And He will satisfy thy need;

The blessings by His hand outpour'd

On those who serve Him, far exceed
Aught that the wanderer will believe,
Aught that the worldling can conceive.

His arm will conquer every foe

When thou shalt follow Him alone;
His fulness make thy heart o'erflow
When it is emptied of thy own.
Oh, waver not! but humbly pray
For strength to cast the world away,
And serve God only, from this day.


I WAS sitting alone towards the twilight,
With spirit troubled and vexed,

With thoughts that were morbid and gloomy,
And faith that was sadly perplexed.

The Voice in the Twilight.

Some homely work I was doing

For the child of my love and care, Some stitches half wearily setting,

In the endless need of repair.

But my thoughts were about the "building,"
The work some day to be tried ;

And that only the gold and the silver,
And the precious stones should abide.

And remembering my own poor efforts,
The wretched work I had done,
And, even when trying most truly,
meagre success I had won:


"It is nothing but wood, hay, and stubble,"

I said: "it will all be burned

This useless fruit of the talents

One day to be returned.

"And I have so longed to serve Him,
And sometimes I know I have tried,
But I'm sure when He sees such building,
He will never let it it abide."



The Voice in the Twilight.

Just then, as I turned the garment

That no rent should be left behind,
My eye caught an odd little bungle
Of mending and patchwork combined.

My heart grew suddenly tender,
And something blinded my eyes
With one of those sweet intuitions
That sometimes make us so wise.

Dear child, she wanted to help me ;

I knew 'twas the best she could do; But Oh! what a botch she had made itThe gray mismatching the blue!

And yet can you understand it ?-
With a tender smile and a tear,
And a half compassionate yearning,
I felt her grown more dear.

Then a sweet voice broke the silence,
And the dear Lord said to me,
"Art thou tenderer for the little child,
Than I am tender for thee?

The Voice in the Twilight.

Then straightway I knew His meaning,
So full of compassion and love,

And my faith came back to its refuge,
Like the glad returning dove.

For I thought, when the Master Builder
Comes down His temple to view,

To see what rents must be mended,
And what must be builded anew;

Perhaps, as He looks o'er the building,
He will bring my work to the light,
And seeing the marring and bungling,
And how far it all is from right,—

He will feel as I felt for my darling,
And will say as I said to her,
"Dear child! she wanted to help me,

And love for me was the

"And for the real love that is in it,
The work shall seem perfect as mine;
And because it was willing service,

I will crown it with plaudit divine."


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