“THE LORD HATH NEED OF THEM.”
Father, if many olive plants are given,
To deck thy vineyard with sweet flowerets fair,
Cherish the treasures that are loaned from Heaven,
And toil and pain in hope and patience bear.
Remove the withered leaves by mildew brown,
Pluck up the weeds around each fragile stem,
Prune well the tangled vines all trailing down,
Straighten thy plants;—“the Lord hath need of them.” Mother, if little birdlings seek thy nest,
Shelter them gently ’neath thy downy wing,
Knowing that here each is a transient guest,
And their glad voices may in triumph sing
Forever ever in the heavenly bowers;
And shine in glory, each a sparkling gem,
’Midst emerald groves, and love’s unfading flowers;
Train them for Heaven;—“the Lord hath need of them.” Christian, haste through this wilderness of care,
And on the highways that are hedged with thorn,
Gather the poor lambs that are straying there,
In one great fold, where souls sick and forlorn
Find health and peace; while grace and love combined,
As glittering stars shall deck thy diadem,
And in the “well done” thou reward shalt find;
Bring in the lambs;—“the Lord hath need of them.”