Christian Poems of "THY HIDDEN ONES"

(Various authors)

"THY HIDDEN ONES"

Psal 83:3 (KJV) They have taken crafty counsel against thy people, and consulted against thy hidden ones.

Thick green leaves from the soft brown earth, happy springtime hath called them forth; first faint promise of summer bloom breathes from the fragrant, sweet perfume, under the leaves.

Lift them! what marvelous beauty lies hidden beneath, from our thoughtless eyes! Mayflowers, rosy or purest white, lift their cups to the sudden light, under the leaves.

Are there no lives whose holy deeds -- seen by no eye save Him who reads motive and action -- in silence grow into rare beauty, and bud and blow under the leaves?

Fair white flowers of faith and trust, springing from spirits bruised and crushed; blossoms of love, rose-tinted and bright, touched and painted with Heaven's own light under the leaves.

Full fresh clusters of duty borne, fairest of all in that shadow grown; wondrous the fragrance that sweet and rare comes from the flower-cups hidden there under the leaves.

Though unseen by our vision dim, bud and blossom are known to Him; wait we content for His heavenly ray -- wait till our Master Hiself one day lifteth the leaves! --Anonymous (h2-24)

"Brave little woman, trudging along patiently, day after day -- weaving a garment of shining light out of the clouds of gray; bearing the burdens of vexing cares, like one of the saints of old -- making the best of a dull, hard life with its miseries all untold!

"Long have I watched her with wondering eyes -- faithful and sweet and strong -- doing the work that the Master sends, making of sorrow, song; questioning never the Wisdom that asks self-abnegation complete, willingly treading the pathway of thorns that leads to the Master's feet.

"Sometime a fair, sweet morn shall dawn, with a smile of infinite grace; somewhere, oh somewhere, fruition shall be, when the Angel shall find her a place close to the Father, and she hears Him say, as He tenderly bids her to come, 'Out of the valley of darkness and toil, My child, thou art welcome - Home!" --Stanley J. Davis

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