p. 116 | Untitled article by M. A. House

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, August 6, 1867

THE PICTURE OF LIFE.

By M. A. House

BEFORE me lies a picture, and While I attempt to write, I can see the moving canvas, With its shades of dark and light.

The scenes engraved upon it, Speak of life, its toil and care, Of its duties, and the burdens We are called upon to bear.

We see that lengthening shadows Are beginning to appear, They tell the day is passing, That the night is almost here,

Wherein we cannot labor, Wherein can toil no man, Are there earnest hearts, and willing ? Oh! then labor while you can.

We each a mission can fulfill, In life's great harvest field. If well performed, its joy, and peace, And blessedness will yield.

We see the harvest with'ning; With ready hands and true, Let us enter 'mong the gleaners, There is much that we can do.

Yes—something for us all to do. May we with willing heart, Perform our work although it seems To us an humble part.

What may appear but trifles, Are accepted of the Lord, E'en a cup of water given Will not fail of its reward.

Then to the “heavy laden,” Sad and weary ones, draw near; Whisper words of consolation, Even words of hope and cheer;

And they'll seem like gleams of sunshine, In a dark and cloudy day, Or like fragrant roses scattered All along a thorny way.

This life at best is but a sea, Its billows dark and deep, Or like a rough and rugged coast, Whose rocks are high and steep;

But we're journeying toward the haven, And will anchor there at last, Forgetting every danger, when Its stormy reefs are passed.

So 'mid the gloom and darkness, There are gleams of sunshine bright, Beyond the dark and threat'ning clouds Are sunny beams of light.

Even a “lining” to each storm cloud, Whose “silver” may be seen.

And in this desert land are flowers, And streams whose banks are green.

'Tis well that 'mid the toil and care Of such a world as this, We sometimes seem to catch a view Of Heaven and its bliss.

We see the land of Beulah, With its blessedness untold, And the many-mansioned city With its avenues of gold.

Then shall we faint, and cease to toil ? No, rather should we stay Amid the sheaves, and glean, glean on, While it remaineth day.

And when life's weary day is past, And endless years begin, We may receive a diadem, With glittering stars therein.

M. A. HOUSE.

Battle Creek, Mich.