Consecration by Henry Burton

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Apr 23, 1912

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 39, No. 17.

Consecration

By Henry Burton

ONLY to-day is mine, And that I owe to Thee. Help me to make it Thine, As pure as it may be; Let it see something done; Let it see something won; Then at the setting sun, I'll give it back to Thee.

What if I can not tell The cares the day may bring? I know that I shall dwell Beneath Thy sheltering wing; And there the load is light, And there the dark is bright, And weakness turns to might, And so I trust and sing.

What shall I ask to-day? Naught but Thine own sweet will. The windings of the way Lead to Thy holy hill; And whether here or there, Why should I fear or care? Thy heavens are everywhere, And they are o'er me still.

Give me Thyself to-day; I dare not walk alone. Speak to me by the way, And "all things" are my own,— The treasures of Thy grace, The secret hiding-place, The vision of Thy face, The shadow of Thy throne! —Henry Burton.