Poem December 10, 1949 Issue

IN MY HOUSE

Helen B. Phelps

Oh, may my words, like gentle rain
That lifts the drooping flower again,
Arouse the fainting heart to learn
In confidence to God to turn,
Knowing His bounty ever falls
On him who asks or knocks or calls,
And to a hungry wanderer's cry
Will never bread of Truth deny.
So when a lonely one draws near
And pleads for help from want or fear,
May I from out my bounteous store
Give, and the Lord will give me more.
My house is full of oil and wine
And bread and meat, dear God, for Thine,
That one who seeks for Thee, to bless
And bring him from the wilderness,
From loneliness, from doubt, despair.
When to my house he will repair,
Then he and I will kneel and say,
"We have all good from God today."