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Inasmuch

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Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Nov 9, 1911

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 88, No. 45.

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“Inasmuch”

By Joel Swartz, D. D.

This “inasmuch” we may not know Of service done for Christ, Until the final day shall show, Amid expiring nature’s glow, What Love hath sacrificed.
That “century flower,” fold on fold, Wrapt in the widow’s mite, The ages since have never told How large it was as it unrolled In Christ’s omniscient sight.
How great, from Mary’s broken vase Wherein the nard was stored, Was Love’s forever-spreading grace, When it came from its hiding-place To touch her dearest Lord!
What fountains in the cooling cup, Borne by a loving hand, From which Christ’s thirsty saints may sup, When he shall sum its treasures up, We then shall understand.
But no one now can tell the store Of Love’s unseen supply To hungry, helpless, friendless, poor, Sought out through many a lowly door, Where these in darkness lie!
Until his glory shall display, Beyond these shadows dim, How Love walked with him by the way. And, all-surprised, shall hear him say, Her deeds were done to him. —Joel Swartz, D. D., in New York Observer.