Heart's Flower

"Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.
Praise the Lord." Psalms 150:6

Heart's Flower

by Marion Mosbie

There grew a little flower once

That blossomed in a day;

Some said it would ever bloom,

And some, 'twould fade away.

Some said it was happiness,

And some said it was Spring,

Some said it was grief and tears

And many such a thing.

But still the little flower bloomed

And still it lived and throve,

Men do call it "Summer Growth,"

But angels call it "Love."

• Prayer for Inner Healing
• How Prayer Can Change a Man's Heart

An Easter Offering

AN EASTER OFFERING

Ada Stewart Shelton

"Neither will I offer unto the Lord my God that which doth cost me nothing.'"

Within a crowded dwelling-place,
Climbing its narrow stair,
A little maid is toiling slow,
Who in her hand doth bear
A jug of water, which she guards
And holds with anxious care.

Slowly she climbs the stairway dim,
So narrow, steep, and high,
To where her little window looks
Out on a patch of sky;
And o'er a flower upon its ledge
She bends with loving eye.

The only treasure that is hers!
She dreams of it by night,
Guards it by day; the blue eyes watch
Its opening to the light.
Was ever lily seen before
So pure, so fair, so white?

Soon, very soon, is drawing near
The blessed Easter Day,
When from a grateful, loving heart
We give our best away.
What offering could the dear child make?
She ponders day by day.

Such scanty earnings naught could yield,
From them she fears to take ;
But there upon the window-ledge-
Oh! can she, can she make
Such sacrifice, and give her flower
For Easter - and His sake ?

The glad-voiced bells are chiming clear,
The dim-lit church is sweet
With font and chancel filled with flowers,
This Easter morn to greet,
When up the silent aisle there comes
A child with faltering feet.

Softly the notes from organ grand
Are stealing through the air;
Beneath the Altar's gleaming cross
She lays the lily fair,
And then all timidly she kneels,
And clasps her hands in prayer.
 

'Tis all I have," she murmurs low,
"Dear Lord, to give to Thee,
And so I bring this flower I love.
An offering from me;
For on this holy Easter Day
Thy child I pray to be."

Amid the throng at service hour,
In anthem, chant, and hymn,
One sweet voice rang, until it made
The older eyes grow dim;
They did not know what filled her heart
With gladness to the brim.

The best that it was hers to give,
That she had given away;
Not "that which cost her nothing," but
What nearest her heart lay.
Lord, grant that we may also give
Our best on Easter Day.

Easter Song

Easter Song

by Louisa Parsons Hopkins

THE song of the sap
From its mother's lap
Springing to welcome the Easter Day;
The song of the wood
That groweth good
With the sap that riseth and will not stay;

Clear harmonies
Of the fluted trees, -
The organ-pipes of the bird and bee ;
The voice that wells
From the leaflet-cells, -
A hidden murmur of melody!

The opening sheath
Of the willow's wreath;
Chorus of birds, high carolling;
The cymballed psalm
Of the air's soft palm
Closing after the cleaving wing;

The patter of showers,
The waving flowers,
The symphony of the south wind free;
The vibrant harp
Of the ice-clad scarp,
Struck to the chord of the sounding sea;

The whir of wings,
The bubbling springs,
The bursting ice and the melting snow;
The rapid's roar
And the rippling shore,
The unchained brooks and the rivers' flow;

The nestling broods,
The interludes
Of chirp and trill, of coo and call;
The loosening hold
Of the leaf-bud's fold,
And the resurrection of each and all!

Let the paean rise
In the eastern skies,
While planets sing on their mystic ways;
With heart and voice
Earth and heaven rejoice,
And the song of life be a song of praise!

With Palm Branches

With Palm Branches

by Lucy Larcom

MY soul hastens forth with hosannas,
To wave for the Victor her palm;
Every hope presses forward to meet Him,
Every thought rises up with a psalm.

The stones of the roadside sing praises;
Praise ripples the brook by the way;
The dumb heart of Nature rejoices;
Even silence is vocal to-day.

He goeth to cruel betrayal, -
The thorns and the spear-thrust to meet:
He refuseth no drop of death's anguish, -
The bitterness Love shall make sweet.

We would taste Thy cup with Thee, O Master!
We would share in Thy life, through Thy death!
For Thy sacrifice makes us immortal,
And we live but in breathing Thy breath.

Ride onward, O King of the lowly,
And trample our pride in Thy path!
Let us follow Thee, asking no honor
Save the blessing humility hath!

Ride on, and release us from evil!
Ride on, and redeem us from sin!
Every gate of our being flies open:
Ride on, to Thy Kingdom within!

Thine Easter Day

Restored die cut of kissing children and pansies.

 Thine Easter Day

by Mary Lowe Dickinson

Within thy heart is there an opened tomb?
Have God's strong angels rolled the stone
away?
Rises thy dead self from its bonds of clay?
Breaks Heaven's sweet light across the dark and
gloom?
Then is this day in truth thine Easter day!

If broken down are stony gates of pride,
If shrouding bands of earth are torn away,
If sin and wrath and scorn in thee have died,
Mourn not the past. The folded shroud beside
Angels will watch; - it is thine Easter day.

Rise, new-born soul, and put thine armor on;
Clasp round thy breast the garment of the light;
Gird up thy loins for battle. In the fight
He leads who upward from our sight has gone;
It is His day; there's no more death nor night,

No dark, no hurt, no more sharp shame nor loss;
All buried, hidden 'neath the grave's dark sod;
All ways forgotten, save the road He trod;
All burdens naught in sight of His - the cross;
All joy, alive and safe with Christ in God!

Easter Day

Easter Day 

by Sara Henderson Smith

Over the solemn night

Quivers the first dim light,

Sent forth to herald in the Christian Sabbath birth;

And like that feeble ray,

Scarce chasing gloom away.

Flickers the dawn of Faith, o'er the sin-darkened earth.

Faintly the morning beam,

By Cedron's cooling stream,

And dark Gethsemane, piercing the misty veil.

Reveals the sepulchre,

And its lone watcher - her

Who lingering still, pours forth her grief in low, deep

wail.

Mary, why weepest thou?"

Forgiven, sinless, now;

So soon the echo lost, that bade thee "go in peace."

Still in the cold, damp air,

Rises the grief-taught prayer.

Her Lord is taken hence, nor may her mourning cease.

"Mary, why weepest thou?"

Forgiven, sinless now!

Bowed to the earth, not then her Master's voice she

hears;

"Mary!" the thrilling tone

Now to her heart has gone.

Love taught her first to weep; Love has dried up her

tears.

Disciple of the Lord,

Who trembles at His word,

Be strong, like hers, thy love, tho' faith be dimmed

and weak.

Go wait, and watch, and pray, -

Turn not, if He delay, -

He knows thee by thy name, and to thy heart will speak.

E'en now the angel band

In light around thee stand -

Repentant and forgiven, asking, "Why weepest thou?"

But not till He appears

To gather up thy tears

They gem the love-wrought crown that glitters on

His brow.