Not Now, My Child

Not now

my child

a lit­tle more rough toss­ing

A lit­tle long­er on the bil­lows’ foam;

A few more jour­ney­ings in the de­sert dark­ness

And then

the sun­shine of thy Fa­ther’s home!

Not now

for I have wan­d’rers in the dist­ance

And thou must call them in with pa­tient love;

Not now

for I have sheep up­on the mount­ain

And thou must fol­low them wher­e’er they rove.

Not now; for I have loved ones sad and wea­ry;

Wilt thou not cheer them with a kind­ly smile?

Sick ones

who need thee in their lone­ly sor­row;

Wilt thou not tend them yet a lit­tle while?

Not now

for wound­ed hearts are sore­ly bleed­ing

And thou must teach those wi­dowed hearts to sing:

Not now; for or­phans’ tears are quick­ly fall­ing

They must be ga­thered ’neath some shel­ter­ing wing.

Not now

for ma­ny a hun­gry one is pin­ing

Thy will­ing hand must be out­stretched and free;

Thy Fa­ther hears the migh­ty cry of ang­uish

And gives His an­swer­ing mes­sages to thee.

Go

with the name of Je­sus

to the dy­ing

And speak that name in all its liv­ing pow­er;

Why should thy faint­ing heart grow chill and wea­ry?

Canst thou not watch with Me one lit­tle hour?

One lit­tle hour! and then the glo­ri­ous crown­ing

The gold­en harp-strings

and the vic­tor’s palm;

One lit­tle hour! and then the hal­le­lu­jah!

Eternity’s long

deep thanks­giv­ing psalm!