R2555-7 Poem: Our Elims – To My Beloved Pastor

::R2555 : page 7::


Our way winds upward on the rocky steep,
And narrow is the path our feet must tread;
We still press on through shade or noontide heat—
Pilgrims to Canaan through a desert led.
The way is rough, and weary grow our feet,
Yet faint we not—the goal is fair and sweet.

Yet, as we onward urge our weary way,
Sometimes a sigh escapes, a tear will fall;
Our load grows heavy, and the glaring day
And heat and wayside dust our hearts appal.
Yet our Leader loves us well and notes our sigh,
His help is sure, His presence ever nigh.

We lift our eyes, and lo! a shelving rock
And sparkling spring and waving palms are near;
With glad and quickened feet and eager joy,
We haste to this fair Elim-grove of cheer.
We loose our sandals by the brooklet sweet
And in its waters bathe our weary feet.

And as we take again our onward way,
We pluck fair blossoms, delicate and rare,
We breathe their perfume sweet throughout the day,
The rugged path has grown most strangely fair;
And thus our Father in His tender love,
Doth bless us and His loving-kindness prove.

And thus, dear friend, as you go on your way,
Walking this path our loving Master trod,
With patient, trusting heart from day to day,
Keeping the road that leads to “Home” and God,
May these blest “Elims” often cheer your heart,
That you may ever choose the “better part!”

May blossoms, too, along your path be found,
Blossoms of love, and true and kindly deed,
Most fair and sweet—fragrant with tender thoughts,
And loving gratitude—your earthly meed.
And may I hope, dear friend, my gift may be
One of these wayside blossoms sweet to thee?

With much Christian love, “A happy Christmas and New Year.”
ALICE G. JAMES,—Illinois, Dec. 25th, 1899.


— January 1, 1900 —