At A Time Of Deep Proving.

Poor throbbing heart! the battle wave of life
Beats strong against thee, yet thou strugglest on,
Breasting the mighty billows, though no kind, well-known voice,
When the great mountain wave threatens to o'erwhelm,
Whispers the soul-reviving words, "Be of good cheer,
The port is nearing fast!" Instead of this
Is heard the mournful moan of the discourager,
Portending peril, shipwreck, loss of all.
But ah! poor struggling heart!
An eye is over thee, a Father's eye,
Of tender love and pity. There is ONE
Whose voice is mightier than the noise
Of many waters, who sitteth on the flood
And reigneth King forever.
He sees thee breast the wave, upheld alone
By childlike trust and confidence in Him,
And through the storm is heard His gentle tone,
"Daughter, be comforted, thy faith hath saved thee."

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney was an influential Quaker minister known for her comforting letters to President Abraham Lincoln during the American Civil War. Born on October 22, 1801, in Philadelphia, she became a widow after the death of her husband, Joseph John Gurney, a prominent Quaker minister and abolitionist. Gurney's written works and letters provided solace and guidance during turbulent times. She passed away on December 8, 1881.

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

Written After A Visit To The Institution For The Deaf And Dumb.

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney, Simple Poetry

On Leaving Pine Cottage.

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney, Simple Poetry

In A Season Of Bereavement.

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney, Simple Poetry

When The Eagle Finds

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney, Simple Poetry

English

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To A Friend.

Ah! be not sad, though adverse winds may blow,
Thy patience and thy fortitude to prove;
Thy Saviour wears no frown upon his brow,
"'Tis but the graver countenance of love."

Though clouds and darkness round about him roll,
In righteousness and truth He sits enthroned;
And precious in His sight the immortal soul,
For whose deep stain of guilt His love atoned.

He makes our dearest earthly comforts flee,
Or, e'en when clustering round us, bids them pall,
That thus the "altogether lovely," He,
"Chief of ten thousand," may be all in all.

And hast thou not some blissful moments known,
Even while bowed beneath the chast'ning rod,
When to thy humble spirit it was shown
That glorious is the "City of thy God?"

Hast thou not seen the King in beauty...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

The Last Look Is Taken

The last look is taken, the last word is said
Haste away o'er the waves, then, glad tidings to spread;
Thy Master has called thee, no longer delay,
His work it is glorious, haste, haste thee away.
Come, set the sails, mariner, now we're off shore,
Then weep for the loved ones thou leavest no more;
He is faithful who promised, thou heard'st Him declare
That all thou intrusts to his fatherly care
He will keep in the sheltering fold of his love,
Where nothing shall harm them and nothing shall move.
He will suffer no plague nigh thy dwelling to come,
And His angels shall guard thee wherever thou roam;
No weapon shall prosper that's formed against thee,
For the truth thou hast loved, shield and buckler shall be.
This the heritage is of the child of the Lord,
Of him who ...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

Deceitful Calm

The winds are still; the sea lies all untroubled
    Beneath a cloudless sky; the morn is bright,
Yet, Lord, I feel my need of Thee is doubled;
    Come nearer to me in this blaze of light;
The night must fall, -the storm will burst at length.
    Oh! give me strength.

So well, so well, I know the treacherous seeming
    Of days like this; they are too heavenly fair.
Those waves that laugh like happy children dreaming,
    Are mighty forces brewing some despair
For thoughtless hearts, and ere the hour of need,
    Let mine take heed.

Joy cannot last; it must give place to sorrow
    As certainly as solar systems roll.
I would not wait till that time comes to borrow
    The strength prayer offers to a suffering soul.
Here in the sunlight -yet undimm...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Temptation.

The billows swell, the winds are high,
Clouds overcast my wintry sky;
Out of the depths to thee I call, -
My fears are great, my strength is small.


O Lord, the pilots part perform,
And guard and guide me through the storm,
Defend me from each threatening ill,
Control the waves, - say, Peace, be still.


Amidst the roaring of the sea,
My soul still hangs her hope on thee;
Thy constant love, thy faithful care,
Is all that saves me from despair.


Dangers of every shape and name
Attend the followers of the Lamb,
Who leave the worlds deceitful shore,
And leave it to return no more.


Though tempest-tossd and half a wreck,
My Saviour through the floods I seek;
Let neither winds nor stormy main
Force back...

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Shepherd Of Israel.

Shepherd of Israel! o'er Thy fold
How sweet Thy guardian care,
To them invisible indeed,
Yet present everywhere.

Thy crook still points to "pastures green,"
When rugged paths they see,
Beside "still waters" bids them rest,
And cast their care on Thee.

The "stranger's voice" thou, Lord, canst teach
Their watchful ears to know,
And make their "peace," their heavenly peace,
Like boundless waters flow.

When round this thorny world we stray
And find no place of rest,
Then come like "doves unto the ark,"
Faint, wearied, and oppressed,

Thy gentle hand is soon put forth
Each wanderer to receive;
Thou bindest up the broken heart,
And bidd'st the sinner live.

Why should we fear the storms of time?
Thy word their for...

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All Alone.

Alas! they have left me all alone
By the receding tide;
But oh! the countless multitudes
Upon the other side!

The loved, the lost, the cherished ones,
Who dwelt with us awhile,
To scatter sunbeams on our path,
And make the desert smile.

The other side! how fair it is!
Its loveliness untold,
Its "every several gate a pearl,"
Its streets are paved with gold.

Its sun shall never more go down,
For there is no night there!
And oh! what heavenly melodies
Are floating through the air!

How sweet to join the ransomed ones
On the other side the flood,
And sing a song of praise to Him
Who washed us in His blood.

Ten thousand times ten thousand
Are hymning the new song!
O Father, join Thy weary child
To that...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney