FEATURE

Christ, give me strength to stand for Thy dear Name,
For all the glory of Thy Written Word,
In spite of jeers or laughter, sneering blame,
Or light indifference of minds unstirred.
Thine is the battle. I am but a breath.
Take all the honor, pour the shame on me.
Nerve Thou my arm, and keep my heart till death.
Which hour alone will set the soldier free.

Dear Lord and Christ, Thou pardoned sinner’s Friend,
Who on the cross hast borne my load of guilt,
How could I pay Thee for Thy matchless grace?
Yet give me this: To serve Thee as Thou wilt,
Until the end, unfeared, triumphant end,
When tear-dimmed eyes shall rest upon Thy Face.

This poem is reprinted from The Presbyterian Guardian Volume 1, Number 1 October 7, 1935.