MY SCHOOL | AdventAI

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Dec 8, 1898

MY SCHOOL.

I sat in the school of sorrow: The Master was teaching there, But my eyes were dim with weeping, And my heart oppressed with care.

Instead of looking upward And seeing His face divine, So full of tender compassion For weary, sad hearts like mine,

I only thought of the burden Of the cross, that before me lay, The clouds that hung thick above me, Darkening the light of day,

So I could not learn my lesson, And say, “Thy will be done;” And the Master came not near me As the leaden hours went on.

At last, in despair, I lifted My streaming eyes above, And I saw the Master was watching With a look of pitying love.

To the cross before me He pointed; And I thought that I heard Him say: “My child, thou must take thy burden, And learn thy task to-day.”

“Not now may I tell the reason; ’Tis enough for thee to know That I, the Master, am teaching, And appoint thee all thy wo.”

Then, kneeling, the cross I lifted, For one glimpse of that face divine Had given me strength to bear it, And say, “Thy will, not mine.”

And so I learned my lesson; And through the weary years His helping hand sustained me, And wiped away my tears.

And ever the glorious sunlight From the heavenly home streams down, Till the school tasks all are ended, And the cross exchanged for the crown.

—American Tract Society.