BETAKE THYSELF TO PRAYER.
By Margaret E. Sangster
When bitter winds of trouble blow,
And thou art tossing to and fro,
When waves are rolling mountain high,
And clouds obscure the steadfast sky,
Fear not, my soul, thy Lord is there;
Betake thyself, my soul, to prayer. When in the dull routine of life
Thou yearnest half for pain and strife,
So weary of the commonplace,
Of days that wear the selfsame face,
Think softly, soul, thy Lord is there,
And then betake thyself to prayer. When brims thy cup with sparkling joy,
When happy tasks the hours employ,
When men with praise and sweet acclaim
Upon the highways speak thy name,
Then, soul, I bid thee have a care,
Seek oft thy Lord in fervent prayer. If standing where two pathways meet,
Each beckoning thy pilgrim feet,
Thou art in doubt which road to take,
Look up, and say, “For thy dear sake—
O Master! show thy footprints fair—
I’d follow thee.” Christ answers prayer. The tempter oft, with wily toil,
Seeks thee, my soul, as precious spoil;
His weapons never lose their edge,
But thou art heaven’s peculiar pledge.
Though Satan rage, thy Lord is there—
Dear soul, betake thyself to prayer! —Margaret E. Sangster, in Sunday-School Times.