p. 3 | Things Which Were Written in the Books

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Feb 22, 1912

Things Which Were Written in the Books

By MRS. S. M. SPICER

The Angel's Record—No. 6

“Things Which Were Written in the Books”

MRS. S. M. SPICER

Not glad the angel scribe must write The harrowing list of folly, crime, The shade of sin’s dark, starless night Still hanging o’er the home of time;

Oppression

Of tyrant rule whose iron hand Has forged oppression’s cruel chain, Wide scattering sorrow o’er the land, And fear and want and cruel pain;

Of power that crushed the trembling, weak, Extorting unrewarded toil Where torn affections hopeless weep Such bitter tears as curse the soil;

Of gilded traitor who to raise The mighty self one little notch, A nation’s life and honor pays— O heaven!—the fearful price.

Envy

But on that sin-bedarkened page None darker seemed than envy’s deed; Abhorred on earth,—engine most vile To crush man’s joys, on which to feed,—

Base, “conscious poverty of soul” That worth in others can not bear, But with polluting, withering touch Would wrest the crown it can not wear.

Thirsting for praise, he strives to rob True worth of praise, and honor just; Then, climbing glorious fame’s fair heights, Would fain drag down to his vile dust.

Unhappy he whose humble name Attracts the poisonous arrow’s touch, Or feels the scorching, withering flame Of slander’s breath, envy’s first kin.

Should fallen nature ever fail, Or weakly slip,—a sad misstep,— What sin-steeped legions, born of hell, All ready stand to help him fall.

Record of shame to fallen man! Delight to see a brother fall! “Away with him!” “away with him!” Never-forgiving malice cries; “The law is right, the trespass wrong, The guilty sinner ought to die.” The holy angel blushed to write, That guilty man can not forgive; While Jesus said, from his pure heart, “Go, sin no more, and thou mayst live; Forgive as thou wouldst be forgiven.”

Prejudice

And prejudice—dire foe of truth— Of rumor born, yet ever strong To blind the eye and seal the heart To all except his treasured wrong.

Thank God in heaven that galling yoke Ne’er binds the struggling spirit down; Though failing once, there yet is hope To win and wear the highest crown.

How many lives of usefulness, Disheartened, crushed to earth, are lost! How many bleeding hearts attest The wrong injustice costs! And all The pity of that world of love Does wronged and suffering virtue need.

Be Brave, Be True

Be patient still; Jesus above The judge will be, not man, nor creed. Take cheer, ye sorrowing ones below! Through trials now, the waters deep Shall wash your robes as white as snow, And God’s own books the record keep When earth’s account with time shall fail.

The angel’s record all shall see; And truth, eternal truth, shall tell Thy just rewards—eternity.

“And the books were opened, . . . . and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.” Rev. 20:12.

Takoma Park, D. C.