Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Mums and It was spoken for the Master
It was spoken for the Master
Oh, how lovingly it fell!
It was uttered in a whisper,
Who had breathed it none could tell.
It was spoken for the Master,
Only just a little word,
But the chords that long had slumbered,
In a grief worn-heart were stirred.
Oh, we know not when we scatter,
Where the precious seed will fall,
But we work and trust in Jesus,
For he watcheth over all.
We may sow beside the waters,
Of affliction, it may be,
But the fruits of earnest labor
At the reaping we shall see.
When our busy toil is over,
From the vineyard when we go,
We shall find a store of blessings
That on earth we could not know.
We shall wonder at the brightness
Of the crowns we then shall wear,
But the Lord himself will tell us
Why he placed the jewels there.
Gentle words of patient kindness,
Tho’ unheeded oft they seem,
To the fold of grace may gather
Souls of which we little dream.