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Jerry

Poems By Annie Johnson Flint

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[size=18]Poems by Annie Johnson Flint[/size]

I have various poems in different books by Annie Johnson Flint, and I thought it would be a welcome addition to our Devotional Forum.

May the Lord richly bless you through reading and meditating on these poems! :mrgreen:

Feel free to add to this thread any of her poems that you may come across. They are probably all in the public domain by now.

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[b]What God Hath Promised[/b]

God hath not promised skies always blue,
Flower strewn pathways all our lives through;
God hath not promised sun without rain,
Joy without sorrow, peace without pain.

God hath not promised we shall not know
Toil and temptation, trouble and woe;
He hath not told us we shall not bear
Many a burden, many a care.

God hath not promised smooth roads and wide,
Swift, easy travel, needing no guide;
Never a mountain rocky and steep,
Never a river turbid and deep.

But God hath promised strength for the day,
Rest for the labour, light for the way,
Grace for the trials, help from above,
Unfailing kindness, undying love.

By Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]One Day At A Time[/b]

One day at a time, with its failures and fears,
With its hurts and mistakes, with its weakness and tears,
With its portion of pain and its burden of care;
One day at a time we must meet and must bear.

One day at a time to be patient and strong;
To be calm under trial and sweet under wrong;
Then its toiling shall pass and its sorrow shall cease;
It shall darken and die, and the night shall bring peace.

One day at a time - but the day is so long,
And the heart is not brave and the soul is not strong.
O Thou pitiful Christ, be Thou near all the way;
Give courage and patience and strength for the day.

Swift cometh His answer, so clear and so sweet;
"Yea, I will be with thee, thy troubles to meet;
I will not forget thee, nor fail thee, nor grieve;
I will not forsake thee; I will never leave."

Not yesterday's load are we called on to bear,
Nor the morrow's uncertain and shadowy care;
Why should we look forward or back with dismay?
Our needs, as our mercies, are but for the day.

One day at a time, and the day is His day;
He hath numbered its hours, though they haste or delay.
His grace is sufficient; we walk not alone;
As the day, so the strength that He giveth His own.

Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]In Bethlehem[/b]

'Twas night in litle Bethlehem,
All calm and clear and mild,
And tenderly, with voice and touch,
A mother soothed her child;
"Sleep, little one, the day is done,
Why do you wake so long?"
"Oh, mother dear, I seem to hear
A wondrous angel song."
"Not so, my son, my precious one,
'Twas but the wind you heard,
Or drowsy call of dreaming bird,
Or osiers by the streamlet stirred
Beneath the hillside trees;
Some bleating lamb that's gone astray,
Or traveller singing on his way
His weariness to ease.
Rest, little son, till night is done,
And gloomy darkness flees."
Yet while she spoke the shepherds ran
In haste the road along,
To find the Mother and the Babe,
For they had heard the song.

"Rest, little son, the night's begun,
Why do you toss and sigh?"
"A brighter star than others are,
O'er yon low roof hangs nigh."
"Not so, my son, my darling one,
I see no gleaming star
That shines more bright than others are;
'Tis but a lamp that burns afar,
Or glow-worm's wandering spark;
Some shepherd's watch-fire in the night,
Or traveller's torch that blazes bright
To cheer him through the dark.
Sleep, little son, till night is done,
And upward springs the lark."
Yet, while she spoke, three kings had come,
Three kings who rode from afar,
To lay their gifts at Jesus' feet,
For they had seen the star.

And so today, beside our way,
The heavenly portents throng,
Yet some there be who never see
The Star, nor hear the Song.

Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]Passing Through[/b]

"When thou passeth through the waters,"
Deep the waves may be and cold,
But JEHOVAH is our refuge
And His promise is our hold;
For the LORD Himself hath said it,
He, the Faithful GOD and true­:
"When thou comest to the waters
Thou shalt not go down, but through."

Seas of sorrows, seas of trial,
Bitterest anguish, fiercest pain,
Rolling surges of temptation
Sweeping over heart and brain­
They shall never overflow us
For we know His Word is true;
All His waves and all His billows
He will lead us safely through.

Threatening breakers of destruction,
Doubt's insidious undertow,
Shall not sink us, shall not drag us
Out to ocean depths of woe;
For His promise shall sustain us,
Praise the LORD, whose Word is true!
We shall not go down, or under,
For He saith, "Thou passeth through."

by Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]New Every Morning[/b]

Yea, "new every morning," though we may awake,
Our hearts with old sorrow beginning to ache;
With old work unfinished when night stayed our hand,
With new duties waiting, unknown and unplanned;
With old care still pressing, to fret and to vex,
With new problems rising, our minds to perplex;
In ways long familiar, in paths yet untrod,
Oh, new every morning the mercies of God!

His faithfulness fails not; it meets each new day
With guidance for every new step of the way;
New grace for new trials, new trust for old fears,
New patience for hearing the wrongs of the years,
New strength for new burdens, new courage for old,
New faith for whatever the day may unfold;
As fresh for each need as the dew on the sod;
Oh, new every morning are the mercies of God!

by Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]The World's Bible[/b]

Christ has no hands but our hands to do His work today;
He has no feet but our feet to lead men in His way;
He has no tongue but our tongues to tell men how He died;
He has no help but our help to bring them to His side.

We are the only Bible the careless world will read;
We are the sinner's gospel, we are the scoffer's creed;
We are the Lord's last message, given in deed and word;
What if the type is crooked? What if the print is blurred?

What if our hands are busy with other work than His?
What if our feet are walking where sin's allurement is?
What if our tongues are speaking of things His lips would spurn?
How can we hope to help Him and hasten His return?

by Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]The Red Sea Place[/b]

Have you come to the Red Sea place in your life,
Where, in spite of all you can do,
There is no way out, there is no way back,
There is no other way but through?
Then wait on the Lord with a trust serene
Till the night of your fear is gone;
He will send the wind, He will heap the floods,
When He says to your soul, "Go on."

And His hand will lead you through - clear through -
Ere the watery walls roll down,
No foe can reach you, no wave can touch,
No mightiest sea can drown;
The tossing billows may rear their crests,
Their foam at your feet may break,
But over their bed you shall walk dry shod
In the path that your Lord will make.

In the morning watch, 'neath the lifted cloud,
You shall see but the Lord alone,
When He leads you on from the place of the sea
To a land that you have not known;
And your fears shall pass as your foes have passed,
You shall be no more afraid;
You shall sing His praise in a better place,
A place that His hand has made.

by Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]God's Great Grace[/b]

His grace is great enough to meet the great things
The crashing waves that overwhelm the soul,
The roaring winds that leave us stunned and breathless,
The sudden storm beyond our life's control.

His grace is great enough to meet the small things
The little pin-prick troubles that annoy,
The insect worries, buzzing and persistent,
The squeaking wheels that grate upon our joy.

by Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]HE GIVETH MORE GRACE[/b]

He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater,
He sendeth more strength when the labors increase;
To added affliction He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources,
Our Father's full giving is only begun.

His love has no limits, His grace had no measure,
His power has no boundary known unto men:
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus,
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again!

by Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]Better Than My Best[/b]

I prayed for strength, and then I lost awhile
All sense of nearness, human and divine;
The love I leaned on failed and pierced my heart,
The hands I clung to loosed themselves from mine;
But while I swayed, weak, trembling, and alone,
The everlasting arms upheld my own.

I prayed for light; the sun went down in clouds,
The moon was darkened by a misty doubt,
The stars of heaven were dimmed by earthly fears,
And all my little candle flames burned out;
But while I sat in shadow, wrapped in night,
The face of Christ made all the darkness bright.

I prayed for peace, and dreamed of restful ease,
A slumber drugged from pain, a hushed repose;
Above my head the skies were black with storm,
And fiercer grew the onslaught of my foes;
But while the battle raged, and wild winds blew,
I heard His voice and perfect peace I knew.

I thank Thee, Lord, Thou wert too wise to heed
My feeble prayers, and answer as I sought,
Since these rich gifts Thy bounty has bestowed
Have brought me more than all I asked or thought;
Giver of good, so answer each request
With Thine own giving, better than my best.

by Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]The Star Of Bethlehem[/b]

Not to the king the Star,
Flaming in light afar;
Not to the king on his throne apart,
With fear and hate in his evil heart,
Speaking smoothly with lying ruse
To find the new-born King of the Jews;
Not to the king the flame,
The light and the glory came.

Not to the seers the Star,
Shedding its beams afar;
Not to the seers with their downbent looks,
Poring over their ancient books,
Searching where and pondering when,
He should be born who is Saviour of men;
Not to the seers the flame,
The light and the glory came.

Not to the sword the Star,
Glowing and bright afar;
Not to the sword that sought where He lay,
Callous and cruel and eager to slay;
Never were bearers of sword so led
Where helpless and innocent blood was shed;
Not to the sword the flame,
The light and the glory came.

But to the wise the Star,
Lighting their path afar;
Unto the wise who truly sought,
With reverent worship and loving thought,
These to the Child the Star could bring,
To lay their gifts at the feet of the King;
Unto the wise the flame,
The light and the glory came.

by Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]The Pruned Branch[/b]

It is the branch that bears the fruit,
That feels the knife;
To prune it for a larger growth,
A fuller life,

Though every budding twig be lopped,
And every grace
Of swaying tendril, springing leaf
Be lost a space.

O thou, whose life of joy seems reft,
Of beauty shorn,
Whose aspirations lie in dust,
All bruised and torn,

Rejoice, though each desire, each dream,
Each hope of thine,
Shall fall and fade; it is the hand
Of love divine

That holds the knife, that cuts and breaks
With tenderest touch,
That thou, whose life has borne some fruit
May now bear much.

by Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]The Wall and the Hedge[/b]

[i]Hast not thou made an hedge about him...on every side?...[/i] Job 1:10

"The devil may wall you around, but he cannot roof you in." - Dan Crawford

The devil may wall you round
But he cannot roof you in;
He may fetter your feet and tie your hands
And strive to hamper your soul with bands
As his way has always been;
But he cannot hide the face of God,
And the Lord shall be your Light,
And your eyes and your thoughts can rise to the sky,
Where His clouds and His winds and His birds go by,
And His stars shine out at night.

The devil may wall you round;
He may rob you of all things dear,
He may bring his hardest and roughest stone
And think to cage you and keep you alone,
But he may not press too near;
For the Lord has planted a hedge inside,
And has made it strong and tall,
A hedge of living and growing green;
And ever it mounts and keeps between
The trusting soul and the devil's wall.

The devil may wall you round,
But the Lord's hand covers you --
And His hedge is a thick and thorny hedge,
And the devil can find no entering wedge
Nor get his fingers through;
He may circle about you all day long,
But he cannot work as he would,
For the will of the Lord restrains his hand,
And he cannot pass the Lord's command
And his evil turns to good.

The devil may wall you round
With his gray stones, row on row;
But the green of the hedge is fresh and fair,
And within its circle is space to spare,
And room for your soul to grow;
The wall that shuts you in
May be hard and high and stout,
But the Lord is sun and the Lord is dew,
And His hedge is coolness and shade for you,
And no wall can shut Him out.

Annie Johnson Flint

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[b]The Blessings That Remain[/b]

There are loved ones who are missing
From the fireside and the feast;
There are faces that have vanished,
There are voices that have ceased;
But we know they passed forever
From our mortal grief and pain,
And we thank Thee, Oh our Father,
For the blessings that remain.

Thanksgiving, oh, Thanksgiving,
That their love once blessed us here,
That so long they walked beside us,
Sharing every smile and tear;
For the joy the past has brought us,
But can never take away,
For the sweet and gracious memories
Growing dearer every day,

For the faith that keeps us patient
Looking at the things unseen,
Knowing Spring shall follow Winter
And the earth again be green,
For the hope of that glad meeting
Far from mortal grief and pain -
We thank Thee, Oh our Father,
For the blessings that remain.

by Annie Johnson Flint

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