A Suffering God

Man is like God in miniature,
When he is at his best;
His motives and impulses pure,
His heart and will at rest;
No conflict in himself is felt,
His light no earthly beam,
While love encircles like a belt,
And conscience is supreme.

As thus endowed a creature may
The keenest sufferings feel;
Not such as rack the frame of clay,
Which art of man may heal;
But pain untold at others' woes,
And deadly blight of sin,
Which right and virtue overthrows,
And blackens all within.

And may not God have suffered much
Ere reached the gory cross?
Did not our woe the God-heart touch?
Did He not feel our loss?
The "Man of Sorrows" we adore,
And own His sufferings real;
But suffered He as God before;
For God can sorrow feel.

Joseph Horatio Chant

Joseph Horatio Chant was a Canadian poet known for his religious and nature-inspired verse. He worked as a farmer and later became an ordained Methodist minister, which influenced his poetry. Chant's work gained modest recognition for its sincere exploration of faith and the Canadian landscape, contributing to the country's early literary heritage. He lived and wrote during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Joseph Horatio Chant

To Mr. Rudyard Kipling[1]

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

The Bud

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

The Baptism Of Clovis

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

A Merognostic

Joseph Horatio Chant, Simple Poetry

English

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A Merognostic

I know in part, but know not all,
The part I know is known;
What know I not I hope with Paul
To know before the throne.
Till then where knowledge fails I trust
The truth God has revealed,
As known by me, forever must
Be like the truth concealed.

I know God is, tho' hid from sight,
And know He cares for me;
In blessing me He takes delight,
And I by faith can see
His skilful hand and loving heart,
In all my life's affairs,
And feel content to know but part
If He knows all my cares.

I know God gave His Son to die
A sacrifice for man,
And live all who on Him rely,
And meet His claims I can,
Yet I know not how in Him meet
The human and divine;
But God He is, and at His feet
I fall, and feel Him mine.

Nor do ...

Joseph Horatio Chant

Pain

The Man that hath great griefs I pity not;
Tis something to be great
In any wise, and hint the larger state,
Though but in shadow of a shade, God wot!

Moreover, while we wait the possible,
This man has touched the fact,
And probed till he has felt the core, where, packed
In pulpy folds, resides the ironic ill.

And while we others sip the obvious sweet,
Lip-licking after-taste
Of glutinous rind, lo! this man hath made haste,
And pressed the sting that holds the central seat.

For thus it is God stings us into life,
Provoking actual souls
From bodily systems, giving us the poles
That are His own, not merely balanced strife.

Nay, the great passions are His veriest thought,
Which whoso can absorb,
Nor, querulous halting, violate t...

Thomas Edward Brown

A World Redeemed

This world is but the shadow
Of the world that is to be,
A ripple on the surface
Of a deep, unfathomed sea.
God's plans are always perfect,
But long ages intervene
From the planning of the temple
To the glow upon its sheen;
But we can be co-workers
In accomplishing his plan;
For in God's purpose is a place
For every son of man.

The germ may be developed
In a more salubrious clime,
All obstacles surmounted
In the onward march of time,
And nature's forces harnessed
Will their destiny fulfil,
And things now deemed supernal
Respond to human will;
For God has so adjusted
The laws of this earthly sphere,
That by man's help his plans unfold,
And order doth appear.

The words of God's own prophets
Concerning thes...

Joseph Horatio Chant

God's Plan Is Best

Thy plan is best, though it may not agree
With my conceptions of my needs and rights,
And faith may fail to scale its azure heights;
Yet still I trust, and leave my cause with Thee.

With single eye I sought to do Thy will.
I felt Thy smile and left results with Thee;
If they have failed, then that is naught to me--
I did my part, and am Thy servant still.

The hearts of men are in Thy mighty hand;
Naught is concealed from Thy all-searching sight;
Canst Thou not turn them to the left or right?
The raging ocean calms at Thy command.

The aching clay may circumscribe my sphere;
Yet in confinement I may labor still
In work which harmonizes with Thy will,
And e'er rejoice to have my Master near.

Thoughts of Thy love will yet remain with me,

Joseph Horatio Chant

The Over-Heart

Above, below, in sky and sod,
In leaf and spar, in star and man,
Well might the wise Athenian scan
The geometric signs of God,
The measured order of His plan.

And India's mystics sang aright
Of the One Life pervading all,
One Being's tidal rise and fall
In soul and form, in sound and sight,
Eternal outflow and recall.

God is: and man in guilt and fear
The central fact of Nature owns;
Kneels, trembling, by his altar-stones,
And darkly dreams the ghastly smear
Of blood appeases and atones.

Guilt shapes the Terror: deep within
The human heart the secret lies
Of all the hideous deities;
And, painted on a ground of sin,
The fabled gods of torment rise!

And what is He? The ripe grain nods,
The sweet dews fall, the swe...

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Others' Burdens

My greatest grief is not my own;
That often proves a blessing,
For in my grief God's care is shown,
And as I am not left alone,
It never proves distressing;

But when my brother's grief I bear
The weight then seems excessive;
His heavy load I inly share,
And loaded down by double care,
My burden feels oppressive.

Yet I remember Him who bore
The world's great load of sorrow,
And know that He on me will pour
The needed grace to bear the more,
To-day and on the morrow.

Joseph Horatio Chant