Early Faith

Whom hear we tell of all the joy which
loving Faith can bring,

Whom hear we tell of all the joy which
loving Faith can bring,
The ever-widening glories reached on her strong
seraph wing?
Is it not oftenest they who long have wrestled
with temptation,
Or passed through fiery baptisms of mighty
tribulation?

Perhaps, in life’s great tapestry, the darkest
scenes are where
The golden threads of Faith glance forth most
radiant and fair:
And gazing on the coming years, which un-
known griefs may bring,
We hail the lamp which o’er them all shall
heavenly lustre fling.

Thank God!  there is at eventide a gleam of
ruby light,
A star of love amid the gloom of sorrow’s lin-
gering night,
An ivy-wreath upon the tomb, a haven in the
blast,
A staff for weary, trembling ones, when youth
and health are past.

But  shall we seek the diamonds in the lone and
dusky mine,
When ‘mid the sunny sands of youth they wait
to flash and shine?
Neglect the fountain of Christ’s joy till woe-
streams darkly flow,
Nor seek a Father’s smile until the world’s cold
frown we know?

Nay!  be our faith the rosy crown on morn’s
unwrinkled brow,
The sparkling dewdrop on the grass, the blos-
som on the bough;
The gleam of pearly light within the snowy-
bosomed shell;
An added power of loveliness in beauty’s every
spell.

Oh, let it be the sunlight of the pleasant sum-
mer hours,
That calls to pure and radiant birth unnum-
bered frangrant flowers;
That bathes in golden joyance every anthem-
murmuring tree,
And spreads a robe of glory o’er the silver-
crested sea.

Oh, let it be the key-note of the symphony of
gladness,
Which wots not of the broken lyre, the requiem
of sadness:
For they who melodies of heaven in hours of
brightness know,
Will modulate sweet harmony from earth’s dis-
cordant woe.

Frances Havergal