p. 1 | It Is More Blessed

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 31, 1865

"It Is More Blessed."

Give! as the morning that flows out of heaven ; Give! as the waves when the channel is riven ; Give! as the free air and sunshine are given ; Lavishly, utterly, carelessly give. Not the waste drops of thy cup overflowing, Not the faint sparks of thy heart ever glowing, Not a pale bud from the June roses blowing ; Give, as He gave thee, who gave thee to live.

Pour out thy love, like the rush of a river Wasting its waters, forever and ever, Through the burnt sands that reward not the giver ; Silent or songful, thou nearest the sea. Scatter thy life, as the Summer's showers pouring ! What if no bird through the pearl-rain is soaring ? What if no blossom looks upward adoring ? Look to the life that was lavished for thee !

Give, though thy heart may be wasted and weary, Laid on an altar all ashen and dreary ; Though from its pulses a faint miserere Beats in thy soul the sad presage of fate. Bind it with cords of unshrinking devotion ; Smile at the song of its restless emotion ; 'Tis the stern hymn of eternity's ocean ; Hear ! and in silence thy future await.

So the wild wind strews its perfumed caresses, Evil and thankless the desert it blesses, Bitter the wave that its soft pinion presses, Never it ceases to whisper and sing. What if the hard heart give thorns for thy roses ? What if on rocks thy tired bosom reposes ? Sweetest is music with minor-keyed closes, Fairest the vines that on ruins will cling.

Almost the day of thy giving is over ; Ere from the grass dies the bee-haunted clover, Thou wilt have vanished from friend and from lover ; What shall thy longing avail in the grave ? Give, as the heart gives, whose fetters are breaking, Life, love and hope, all thy dreams and thy waking, Soon Heaven's river thy soul-fever slaking, Thou shalt know God and the gift that He gave.