Something About Jesus
Worried, and worn, and weary, a busy one sought his bed,
Alone in his silent chamber, he buried his throbbing head:
Life's cares in a moment vanished, while a sunbeam seemed to trace
Bright thoughts on the mind's clear tablet, messages full of grace,
"Something about the Saviour," gilding that furrowed face.
"Something about the Saviour," a tempted one seemed to say,
As he opened the Good Old Volume at the dawn of a dreaded day;
He read till the clouded future with a golden rift grew bright;
I looked o'er his bended shoulder, and found the radiant light,
"Something about the Saviour," ending the darkened night.
"Something about the Saviour," an anxious one sadly sighed,
As he went to the place of meeting; but the preacher was full of pride,
And, soaring on borrowed pinions, was lost in a misty cloud:
So the worldly ears were tickled, and praises were high and loud,
But nothing about the Saviour was said to the dying crowd.
"Something about the Saviour." From a sick one's lips it fell,
But her visitor, though she loved Him, neglected the holy spell;
She talked of the church, the people, and many an idle whim,
But she trembled to speak of Jesus. Then the sufferer's eye grew dim
With a briny tear, as they parted, for she longed to hear of Him.
"Something about the Saviour," - something is all we know;
Something about His doings, sojourning here below;
Something about His mercy, bountiful, boundless, free;
Something about His power, bidding the legion flee;
Something about His glory - something is all we see.
Perhaps when we reach the Palace, a part of our sweet reward
Will be to rehearse to angels something about their Lord,
Telling them how we proved Him, telling what He has done;
I know they will like to listen to our life stories one by one,
And perhaps, in return, will tell us their knowledge of God's dear Son.
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