The Gift of God

This humble, landlocked marsh may know
Through all its winding water-ways,
In pulsing tides that come and go,
The thrill of ocean's joy and praise.

I watched it all the twilight through
Drained, dreary, bare, and dry;
'Tis flooded full of living blue
Now sun and tide are high.

My heart, in darkness, Love, doth fear,
To yield Thee all its me and mine,
Nor knows, with channels bare and drear,
My giving clears the way for Thine.

But when my night by day is riven,
Then pouring full and free,
The measure of Thy grace is given,
And I am one with Thee.

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"Be Courteous"
March 21, 1901

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