[Written for the Sentinel]

Supply

"My meat," the Saviour said,
"Is to obey."
No other way
Can I be fed.

Obedience, that is all,
To voice divine;
Supply's then mine.
Oh, bounteous call!

Always God's calling me
In tender tone;
Him will I own
And loyal be.

No irksome servitude
To me, but this 
"Unfolding bliss"
"Miscellaneous Writings," page 83. Is heaven's prelude.

Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit