Poem April 29, 1939 Issue

Thy Servant Heareth

GLADYS GARDEN

Speak to me, Father;
In Thy dear voice revealing
Thy wondrous secrets to my waiting heart.
Soft as the gentle dew, close as my breathing,
Thy tender words fall quiet: Come apart.

With ears attuned and eager heart expectant,
I turn to commune with Thee, filled with peace,
And in the hush which heralds angel-voices,
My restlessness, distress, and discord cease.

O my belovéd Lord!
Teach me to do Thy bidding,
My plans to yield, both hands in Thine to place,
That, serving Thee in calm, serene obedience,
I may reflect Thee, radiant with Thy grace.

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