Wonderful Words

As I, one day, was waiting there
   A little while before the door,
Till those within should answer me
   And take their portion of my store,
Another person waited, too,
   Outside a door, not far away,
Distributing his morning's milk,
   And wondrous words I heard him say.

Those words, expressed in undertone,
   Came them with lasting force to me,
Proceeding from his inner soul,
   Where human eyes could never see:
He knew not then, nor ever knew,
   That mortal ears had heard his voice
Express the feelings of his soul
   So full of joy and must rejoice.

'Twas to himself, alone, he said,
   While thinking how the Saviour died,
"My richest gain I count but lost,
   And pour contempt on all my pride.'
With hands engaged in common toil,
   His soul was happy in the Lord,
Thus proving how, midst active life,
   His mind with quiet peace was stored.

There, to himself, he thus expressed
   The homage of a noble soul,
While holding fellowship with God,
   Who had become his "All in all':
What grander, more heroic choice
   Than to consider all things loss,
That we, in vision , may behold
   The wondrous glories of the Cross?

The man who spoke that early  morn
   Was he whom I, betimes, had heard
In family worship at his home
   In prayer or reading of the word.
I opened quietly the door
   And, for a moment, listened there,
Then gently closed that door again,
   Disturbing not, a scene so rare.

Next door there dwelt another saint,
   Confined to bed for many days,
Who, in her weakness, still possessed
   A spirit filled with joy and praise.
Whene'ere I went to visit her,
   To read, to converse and to pray,
I always gained encouragement
   From cheery words she used to say.

Near by lived friends who opened wide
   Their door for evening praise and prayer
And in those meetings many felt
   'Twas good and pleasant to be there.
While at those gatherings some began
   To speak in public for their Lord,
And now their memories still delight
   Such precious seasons to record.

When passing by that farm to-day,
   Where long-lost faces seem to smile,
And visions hover round the place,
   'Tis wise to pause a little while:
Quick, o'er the years that intervene,
   The memory speeds to former days,
And as those past events appear,
   My heart wells up in songs of praise.