WHERE THE MASTER DWELLETH.
Have ye looked for sheep in the desert,
For those who have lost their way?
Have ye been in the wild, waste places,
Where the lost and wandering stray?
Have ye trodden the lonely highway,
The foul and darksome street?
It may be ye’d see in the gloaming
The print of My wounded feet. Have ye stood by the sad and weary,
To smooth the pillow of death,
To comfort the sorrow-stricken,
And strengthen the feeble faith?
And have ye felt when the glory
Has streamed through the open door,
And flitted across the shadows,
That I had been there before? Have ye wept with the broken-hearted
In their agony of woe?
Ye might hear Me whispering beside you,
“’Tis the pathway I often go.”
My brethren, my friends, my disciples,
Can ye dare to follow Me?
Then, wherever the Master dwelleth
There shall My servant be. Have ye carried the living water
To the parched and thirsty soul?
Have ye said to the sick and wounded,
“Christ Jesus can make thee whole?”
Have ye told My fainting children
Of the strength of the Father’s hand?
Have ye guided the tottering footsteps
To the shore of the golden land?