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The Deeds That Shine

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Feb 8, 1912

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 89, No. 6.

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The Deeds That Shine

By MRS. S. M. SPICER

The Angel's Record — No. 5

The Deeds That Shine

MRS. S. M. SPICER
BEHOLD! a gorgeous, golden throne, A sceptered lord of many a realm, Submissive millions ready own His word as law, his wish their will.
And many a noble, generous deed, Perhaps, has graced his regal power; The slave oppressed he may have freed, And kindly dealt with rich and poor.
Then well may fame delight to twine Her loveliest garland for his brow, If wealth and power with goodness shine; So rare this triple crown is worn.
On history's fairest page will shine The name earth honors, loves the best; And after death, almost divine His virtues glow, his faults suppressed.
But when with saints he upward flies, Admitted to the mansions blest, The angel's record meets his eyes,— His earthly name in heaven made bare,— Uncrowned, untitled, only bright With simple deeds of goodness done; These radiant glowed in heaven's light; All else, with earthly dross was gone. And, in his heavenly diadem, Mid pearls of love, not one star more For all the stars on earth he wore.
More strange than all, beside his name Scores of his subjects were enrolled, Of equal rank or higher still, Whose deeds on earth were never told. Of humble name, of lowly walk, Earth's sorrowing ones they ever knew; Knew well of Jesus' love to talk; And in his name all good to do.
Some, faithful heralds of the cross, Who sought men's dying souls to bless, Whose holy lives continual taught: “The way to heaven is righteousness.”
Some, busier still, the record said, Love's unseen ministries dispensed,— Smile for the sad; for hungry, bread; On mercy's errands tireless spent. Earth's angels they; whose gentle lives Flow out to gladden everywhere, As silent dew the earth revives, And wakes sweet fragrance in the flowers.
While many a noble great resolve, Awaiting time away is riven, The constant, trickling drops of love Have filled a crystal cup in heaven. Others to feast, is love's best feast, Unheeding what reward may be. “What ye have done to lowliest, least,” The angel writes, “ye've done to Me.”
Some loving well, have served as well, Bearing affliction's chastening rod; In pain and sorrow whispering still, “Thy will, not mine, be done, O God!”
Others discerned the midnight gloom, Which ignorance spreads o'er mind and soul; Toiled hard the mines of truth to find, Her priceless treasures to unfold.
Long was the list, the page was bright, So many faithful ones inscribed, Whose faults were hid in virtue's light, So much of heaven on earth imbibed.
Takoma Park, D. C.