p. 10 | SO HE BRINGETH THEM by Marianne Farningham

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 30, 1897

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 23, No. 38.

SO HE BRINGETH THEM.

By Marianne Farningham

Out in the wilderness, wandering wearily, Hungering, shelterless, crying so drearily, Making no progress toward home land and rest, Often we question, Can this way be best? Are we forsaken, or is this a guide? Can it be true that the Lord will provide? Ah, but the answer shall come before long, And lips that are sighing break forth into song!

Rudderless, anchorless, how we are driven! Winds sweep the ocean; clouds cover the heaven; Wild is the tempest and long is the night; The dawn still delays, tho the prayer is for light; Tossed by the billows, cast into the deep, Frail is the barque where we struggle and weep. How can the voyagers reach home at last? But the haven is ours, and the danger is past.

No one is fatherless, no one is left, No one is utterly crushed and bereft— We are God's children, tho out in the wild; He who redeems us is watching each child. Tho in the wilderness, tho on the sea, Not far is the haven where each would fain be; And He, if in tempest or danger we roam, By the right way, the best way, is bringing us home. Marianne Farningham.