And finally, two poems that speak volumes-

They are HIS waves, whether they break over us,
Hiding His face in smothering spray and foam;
Or smooth and sparkling, spread a path before us,
And to our haven bear us safely home.

They are HIS waves, whether for our sure comfort
He walks across them, stilling all our fear;
Or to our cry there comes no aid nor answer,
And in the lonely silence none is near.

They are HIS waves, whether we are hard-striving
Through tempest-driven waves that never cease,
While deep to deep with turmil loud is calling;
Or at His word they hush themselves in peace.

They are HIS waves, whether He separates them,
Making us walk dry ground where seas had flowed;
Or lets tumultuous breakers surge about us,
Rising unchecked across our only road.

They are HIS waves, and he directs us through them
So He has promised, so His love will do.
Keeping and leading, guiding and upholding,
To His sure harbor, he will bring us through.

Annie Johnson Flint- Streams in the Desert


Blessed is he whose faith is not offended,
When all around his way
the power of God is working out deliverance
for others day by day;

Though in some prison dark his own soul does fail,
till life itself be spent,
Yet still can trust his Father's love and purpose,
and rest therein content.

Blessed is he, who through long years of suffering,
Not now from active toil,
Still shares by prayer and praise the work of others,
and thus "divides the spoil."

Blessed are you, O child of God, who does suffer,
and cannot understand
The reason for your pain, yet will gladly leave
Your life in His blest Hand.

Yes, blessed are you whose faith is "not offended"
By trials unexplained,
By mysteries unsolved, past understanding
Until the goal is gained.

Freda Hanbury Allen- Streams in the Desert