Not Lost | AdventAI

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, Cal. · May 6, 1875

Not Lost.

THE look of sympathy; the gentle word Spoken so low that only angel heard; The secret art of pure self-sacrifice, Unseen by men, but marked by angel eyes: These are not lost.

The sacred music of a tender strain, Wrung from a poet's heart by grief and pain, And chanted timidly, with doubt and fear, To busy crowds who scarcely paused to hear: These are not lost.

The silent tears that fall at dead of night Over soiled robes that once were pure and white; The prayers that rise like incense from the soul, Longing for Christ to make it clean and whole: These are not lost.

The happy dreams that gladden all our youth, When dreams had less of self and more of truth; The childhood's faith, so tranquil and so sweet, Which sat like Mary at the Master's feet: These are not lost.

The kindly plans devised for others' good, So seldom guessed, too little understood; The quiet, steadfast love that strove to win Some wanderer from the devious ways of sin: These are not lost.

Not lost, O Lord! for, in thy city bright, Our eyes shall see the past by clearer light, And things long hidden from our gaze below Thou wilt reveal, and we shall surely know They were not lost.