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 force can stay;
Enough, be still! the high behest,
Which winds and waves obey.

"Thy will be done" can calm the soul
By fearful tempests driven,
The holiest anthem sung on earth,
The highest heard in Heaven.

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

On Hearing It Said "That It Was Unreasonable To Suppose Man Should Believe What He Could Not Comprehend."

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney, Simple Poetry

Recognition In Heaven.

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney, Simple Poetry

Time.

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney, Simple Poetry

William Forster.

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney, Simple Poetry

English

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Lines Suggested By The Presence Of The English Friends, J. And H. C. Backhouse, In America 1831.

... "They that turn many to righteousness,
shall shine as the stars forever and ever." ...


They have left their homes and kindred, they are in the strangers' land,
The voice of God revealed his will; His will was their command.
They crossed the pathless main, nor feared the sadly treacherous wave,
For is not He in whom they trust omnipotent to save?

But did no dark forebodings come? Was all at peace within?
Did prompt obedience' sure reward e'en with the toil begin?
Ah no! for nature's fond appeal would in that hour be heard;
Maternity's deep spring of love within the heart was stirred.
Perhaps some little cherub form, that it was joy to see,
Would climb no more, with sunny smile, its happy parent's knee;
Perhaps some gentle household voice, that sighed "farewel...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

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

Farewell.

Fare thee well, we've no wish to detain thee,
For the loved ones are bidding thee come,
And, we know, a bright welcome awaits thee
In the smiles and the sunshine of home,
Thou art safe on the crest of the billow,
And safe in the depths of the sea;
For the God we have worshipped together
Is Almighty, and careth for thee.

And when, in the home of thy fathers,
Thy fervent petition shall rise
For the loved who are circling around thee,
The joy and delight of thine eyes,
Oh, then, for the weak and the faltering,
Should a prayer, as sweet incense, ascend
To the God we have worshipped together,
Remember thy far-distant friend.

We miss the calm light of thy spirit,
We miss thy encouraging smile;
But we bless the unslumbering Shepherd
...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

William Forster.

Ah! know ye not in Israel
A prince is fallen to-day,
A just man, from the ills to come,
In mercy called away!

The Church is clothed in mourning,
Who shall supply her loss?
A standard bearer's quit the field,
A soldier of the cross.

On mission high and holy
He braved the watery main,
And many a faithful heart rejoiced
To welcome him again.

Thrice had the veteran warrior
Nobly forsaken all,
And trod our western wilderness
Obedient to His call,

Whose voice he knew from childhood,
And followed where it led,
For perfect love reigned over him,
And banished fear and dread.

Meekly he journeyed onward,
Unmoved by praise or blame;
The mark was always kept in view,
And steady was his aim.

Unfalte...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

The Gathering Round The Oak Tree.

Why should "the little remnant mourn?"
Though closed the house of prayer,
An aged oak its shelter gave;
And surely He was there,
Who dwells in house not built with hands,
Eternal in the skies;
Incense nor costly altar craves,
Nor lamb for sacrifice;
But who the purest offering still
Finds in a willing mind,
And oft "through paths they know not of,"
In safety leads the blind.
Yes, He was there! The faithful band,
"O'ershadowed by His love,"
Saw in each bough that gently waved
A peace-branch from above.
Jesus was in the awful pause;
The prayer He prompted too;
And softly sighed, "Father, forgive,
They know not what they do."

While thus they crucify afresh
The Lamb of Calvary,
O Lord! be merciful to them,
Though they are f...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

The Shepherd

How sweet is the Shepherd's sweet lot!
From the morn to the evening he stays;
He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lambs' innocent call,
And he hears the ewes' tender reply;
He is watching while they are in peace,
For they know when their Shepherd is nigh.

William Blake