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NOT NOW, MY CHILD

“Father, I long to spread thy Truth o’er land and sea!”
I listen, and there comes to me
His answer, tender, loving, mild,
“Not now, my child.”

“Father, my heart is sad; I fain would leave this wilderness,
Go forth earth’s groaning ones to bless!”
I hear again his answer mild,
“Not now, my child.”

“Father, I yearn to break these fleshly fetters and be free,—
As pants the hart, I pant for thee.”
His voice, how sweet, how tender, mild,
“Not now, my child.”

“Father, thy will be done; I humbly leave it all with thee,
Thou knowest what is best for me!”
I hear his voice, so low, so mild,
“Come now, my child.” —G. W. Seibert.

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— September 15, 1907 —