THE MASTER'S CALL

MARY A. NEWMAN.

Into a desert place come ye apart,
The loving Master said, and rest awhile;
For earthly hopes and joys have claimed thy heart
And human ways and means thy thoughts beguile.
Ye cannot hear me as ye pass along,
Lured by the pleasures of the busy mart;
My voice unheeded falls upon the throng:
Into a desert place come ye apart.

Have ye no leisure for the needed food,—
The grace and guidance for thy daily bread;
Into a quiet place of solitude
Come, rest awhile, the loving Master said.
This is thy call to me, O Saviour mine!
And gladly, thankfully, will I obey;
Will simply place my trembling hand in thine,
And trusting, follow where thou lead'st the way.

The way thou choosest is the path for me;
Amid the bracken, thorns, and rugged stone;
What sweeter benediction can there be
Than in a desert place with thee alone?
And in the sweet communion of that rest—
Learning anew the lesson, Peace, be still—
In meekness would I wait on thy behest,
In deepest joy thy loving word fulfil.

And as I tread the path where thou dost lead,
A fairer vision dawns upon my sight:
Blossoms are springing on the dewy mead,
And all around with peace divine is bright.
And now my prayer shall be for grace to live
With thee in closer conscious unity;
And from the fulness of that grace to give
A sympathy divine—reflecting thee.

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