p. 13 | The Tryst by Margaret R. Radcliffe.

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Mar 19, 1908

The Tryst

By Margaret R. Radcliffe.

WEARY, you say, and tired, dear, Weary of time and stress? The struggle of life has been hard, I fear, And pleasure grows less and less. Ah well, then take a little rest; For you are worn and weak; In the quiet, dear, is a waiting Guest— Patiently waiting to speak.

His hands are filled with goodness, dear, And his heart with holy love; He looks like the Lord of another sphere, His voice is the voice of a dove.

What! Can not leave your work, my dear; Not move from the ruts of life? Behold, in the eyes of this Friend a tear; He would help you in the strife.

He would unloose the hands, my dear, Of time that hold you fast; Go talk with him in the stillness, dear; Sure it will rest you at last. Did you say you could not see him, dear? Lift up your bended head; His pitying eyes are above you, dear, Filled with tears unshed.

Let him unclasp your hands, my dear, From earth's persistent hold; Go rest with him in the quiet, dear, His peace will you enfold. Go into the sacred stillness, dear, For the sake of the love of Christ; 'Tis love divine that is so near— Go forth and keep your tryst.

— Margaret R. Radcliffe.