THE JOY THAT SATISFIES.
By Eliza H. Morton
The perfume of the garden flowers
That makes the air like balm,
The stillness of a summer day
With all its restful calm,
Glad news from home when far away
That fills the heart with song,
The whispered words of tender love
That linger there so long; The thought that wakens in the soul
A dream of future bliss,
The idols wrought of earthly things
That promise happiness,
Are not the sweetest things below;
The blossoms quickly fall,
The blasts of winter sweep the earth
As with a funeral pall, And changes come with fleeting years:
The love is not for aye,
The dreams but flash across the brain,
The idols are of clay.
But list, O wanderer on life's shore,
Give ear and know this truth:
There is a joy to satisfy
Old age and buoyant youth. The joy of Christ when here on earth
Was in the souls set free,—
Those purchased ones, His joy and crown
For evermore will be,—
And we may know that rapturous bliss
And revel in the thought
Of all the wondrous, glorious things
That humble prayer hath wrought. Then let us pray, and as we pray
Believe our prayers are heard.
There's power to-day, as long ago,
Through faith in God's own word;
And joy will come to satisfy,
To waken songs of praise,
And we shall see a glory shine
To brighten all our days.