Written for the dedication of the Pacific Press, and read on the occasion, Sept. 8, 1907, by Miss Kathrina B. Wilcox.
JEHOVAH is love, and Jehovah is kindness,
Whatever the record of seeming may be,
It is only the dullness of human sin-blindness
Which hides from our hearts the blessings that He
Holds out for the faith-sight forever to see.
His ways are the best, soul, whatever the seeming,
His ways are the best, and they lead to the light;
And thru the dark clouds faith sees ever the gleaming
Of rays from His presence. His way is the right;
Not of might is the right, but of right is the might.
We plot and we plan in our hoping and fearing,
And in our way, not His way, we hope to attain;
We long for His blessing, we plead for His hearing,
But we ask for them both on the plots of our brain,
And hope that our striving will gather His gain.
In mercy He leaves us to reap of our sowing,
To gather the fruitage of self-scattered seed,
To mingle the grain of His blessed bestowing
With the tare and the thistle, the cockle, the weed,
The strivings for gain, and the world's hungry greed.
Yet He points still the way, His goodness revealing,
Not willingly afflicts He the children of men;
His wounds of reproof are filled with His healing;
He would teach them by faith if they walk in His ken,
He would not have them suffer again and again.
If still they heed not, if still dull of hearing,
If still human wisdom loometh large in their sight,
If still the black shadows of men they are fearing,
If still they are fearful just to fight the good fight
And to follow the way which leads on to the right,
God shatters their idols, He crushes their pillars,
Erected by man to man's glory and fame,
Till we see that our hopes were but consummate killers
Of holiest trust in the undying Name,
And preservers of glory that leadeth to shame.
The mighty earth shook, and men's glory fell crumbling,
Unstayed by man's wisdom, unheld by man's power;
And lips that oft cursed prayed 'midst its wild rumblings,
For protection and safety in that awful hour
Which crushed mighty fanes, but harmed not the flower.
We thought we were safe, as in days long departed,
Men said, while they sinned, "We're the temple of God,
And the kingdoms topple and kings are down-hearted,
We shall not know His wrath, shall not feel His rod,
He's the gracious, the kind, the covenant God."
Aye, He is, He is kind, and in His great kindness
He seeth our folly, He knoweth our way,
He would scatter the fog that causeth our blindness,
He would strengthen and lift from the mire and the clay,
Would illumine with light of the on-coming day.
And hearts felt the impulse, eyes saw greater vision,
We reached for new power and saw larger field,
We learned to act quickly, be prompt in decision;
But we failed, and sin's wounding remained yet unhealed,
And our covenant with God on our part unsealed.
With our walls broken down, straight Egyptward going,
We leaned on their staff and hoped in their aid,
Forgetting the harvest would be as the sowing;
But we learned when too late that the price which we paid
In the scales of the world and the devil was weighed.
The staff that we stayed on, a broken reed proved it,
And pierced to our heart, and humbled our pride;
For the fire followed quake, 'twas our worldliness moved it;
We were wanderers from God, and our wish was our guide,
And His counsel of life our acts had denied.
But humbled at last in the dust and the ashes,
On our knees we saw higher and wider and true,
Receiving with meekness the loved Master's lashes,
We learned that to trust was to give God His due,
In a larger and truer and holier view.
O great was the loss if by gold it is measured;
Our beautiful house was in ashes and dust,
The cup of keen sorrow, not more has it treasured,
Yet out of the flame grew the blest flower of trust,
The glad, grateful truth that our wise God is just.
Great and blest was our gain, saw we God, clear and clearer,
For He spake to our hearts as prostrate we lay,
For the chastening love brought us near and yet nearer
To the Power that's a Staff, to the Love that's a Stay,
To the Wisdom that guides in the all-perfect way.
Yea, after the earthquake, the forked tongue's red flaming,
And fierce burned the fire with the hatred of hell;
But the Voice sweet and low with the gentlest of blaming,
Came clear as the tones of a sweet silver bell,
'Rise and build to His name, build wise and build well.
"For His work alone let the structure be builded,
Build for God, honor Him, leave the world to its gold;
With the shining of truth let its working be gilded,
'Twill be safer than steel or of stone, and 'twill hold
Till the heaven away like a scroll shall be rolled."
We heeded the Voice. To our feet stronger rising,
Built we humble and modest, sought Him as we went,
Cut loose from the world and its carnal devising,
And under the guidance He graciously lent,
Have learned precious lessons of things that He meant.
For the low earthly vision, in humble confessing,
We plead for His mercy, we hope for His grace,
We give Him the praise for the multiplied blessing,
And we humbly would walk in the light of His face,
And trust in a wisdom our souls can not trace.
May we learn, gracious Lord, learn the lesson Thou'rt teaching,
Learn it well, build upon it, a faith true and strong,
Know the worth of the labor for souls Thou art reaching;
Labor on to win souls to that blest blood-washed throng,
And sing with the ransomed the glad victor's song.
What, then, are the temblors, what, then, is the burning?
What, then, all the troubles and trials and strife?
What all, but God's teaching and character-earning,
To fit for His work in the army of life?
To fit for a kingdom that'll never know strife?