John Oxenham

Bees in Amber John Oxenham

Book ExcerptgraceThat suffered man, and death, and yet, in tenderness, Set wide the door, and passed Himself before--As He had promised--to prepare a place. Yea, we may hope!For we are seeds, Dropped into earth for heavenly blossoming. Perchance, when comes the time of harvesting, His loving careMay find some use for even a humble tare. We know not what we shall be--only this--That we shall be made like Him--as He is. WHIRRING WHEELSLord, when on my bed I lie, Sleepless, unto Thee I'll cry; When my brain works overmuch, Stay the wheels with Thy soft touch. Just a quiet thought of Thee, And of Thy sweet charity, --Just a little prayer, and thenI will turn to sleep again. THE BELLS OF YSWhen the Bells of Ys rang softly, --softly, Soft--and sweet--and low, Not a sound was heard in the old gray town, As the silvery tones came flo