THE BETTER WAY by C. M. Snow

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · May 7, 1902

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 28, No. 19.

THE BETTER WAY.

By C. M. Snow

O, LET it die, the cruel word Another in thine ear hath poured! 'Twere better far 'twere never heard; Then let it die; and know thy Lord Upon thy silent lips will place A blessing richer, more serene, Than rarest gifts of queenly grace, And brighter than the ruby's sheen.

Is't not enough that sorrows grow By every path like hedge of thorn, Or must thou plant a nearer row To vex and harass those that mourn? Is't not enough that hearts may bleed Beneath the scourge of petty hate, Or must thy hand some rankling weed In that bruised bosom cultivate?

A richer gift than store of gold Bestowed on mission to Cathay, Or piled in walls of marble cold Where kneel the good and glad and gay, Is that which springs from sentient hearts By loving ministry controlled, And from sharp penury imparts The mite the hand can not withhold.

O, 'tis a nobler, worthier deed To hide an insult in the heart Than give to gossip swifter speed Or aim afresh its poisoned dart; To close the ear when babbling tongue Assails a brother to his hurt, Or seeks his many faults among To find some motive to pervert.

Go forth in Heaven's name, and hold High converse with the Heart that knows The conflicts of our breast untold, The deepest measures of our woes; And then with His heart leading thine, And His hand softening thy touch, He'll make thy human gifts divine, And turn thy little into much.

C. M. Snow.