p. 787 | UNDER THE SHADOWS by Mrs. L. D. A. Stuttle

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Dec 29, 1887

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 13, No. 50.

UNDER THE SHADOWS.

By Mrs. L. D. A. Stuttle

BY MRS. L. D. A. STUTTLE.

I CANNOT bear it longer, This weary, weary load; I've borne it, oh, so many years, Along life's devious road! The petty cares of daily life, They gall my spirit so, I'm sore oppressed—I fain would rest And peace and comfort know.

I cannot bear it longer, My heart is sick and sore. I tremble 'neath the galling weight, I cannot bear it more. And if I knew my work on earth Was well and nobly done, I could not weep, in death to sleep Before the setting sun.

So tired am I of longing For something more complete! So tired am I of plodding on, With restless, aching feet! So weary, weary, weary Of selfishness and sin! I strive in vain to hide the pain, The grief and care within.

'Tis thus I sat repining, With tear-drops in mine eyes, When a blessed thought came unto me, Like a message from the skies. Methought, my blessed Master, I'm sure he understands; For he knows my frame: my humble name Is graven on his hands.

Methought, I will read the message The King sends to his child; Perhaps 'twill soothe my aching heart And calm this tumult wild. I took my blessed Bible, My letter from the skies, And, oh! it seemed an angel's hand Had brought the precious prize.

I read the sweet old story, And read it o'er again, And how he came to earth to save The suffering sons of men. And then in tones of pity The Master spoke to me: "Didst thou e'er bear the grief and care That I have borne for thee?"

Then tears of shame and sorrow Fell o'er my burning cheek, That I, a poor, ungrateful worm, Such murmuring words should speak. O Lord, my blessed Saviour, Forgive thine erring one, And help me evermore to say, "Thy will, O God, be done."

Bancroft, Mich., December, 1887.