The flowers are growing
to strew on their graves
(J.R. Miller)
There is a great host of weary
men and women, toiling on
through life, toward the grave--
who most sorely need, just now,
the cheering words and helpful
ministries which we can give.
You are gathering incense of
affection to scatter about their
coffins; but why should it not be
scattered in the hard paths on
which their feet today are treading?
The kind words are lying in men's
hearts unexpressed, trembling
on their tongues unvoiced--
which will be spoken by and by,
when these weary ones are
sleeping in their graves.
But why should they not be
spoken now, when they are
needed so much, and when
the kind words would give
such cheer and hope?
The flowers are growing
to strew on their graves;
but why not cut them now
to brighten their dreary lives
and dark paths.
Many a godly man goes plodding
through life, living obscurely--
yet living a true Christian life,
doing many a quiet kindness
to his neighbors and friends--
yet seldom hearing a word
of appreciation or praise.
The vases, filled with the incense
of affection, are kept sealed.
The flowers are not cut from
the stems. One day you stand
by his coffin, and there are enough
kind things said to have brightened
every hour of his life--
if only they had been
said at the right time.
There are enough flowers piled
upon his casket, to have kept
his chamber filled with fragrance
all through his years--
if only they had been sent
day by day. How his heavy
heart would have thanked GOD,
if, in the midst of his toils,
burdens, and struggles--
he could have heard a few of the
words of affection and appreciation
which are now wasted on ears that
hear them not!
How much happier he would
have been in his weary days--
if he had known how many
kind friends he had!
But, poor man! he had to die
before the appreciation could
express itself. Then he could
not hear the gentle words spoken
over his cold lifeless body.
The love blossomed out too late!
to strew on their graves
(J.R. Miller)
There is a great host of weary
men and women, toiling on
through life, toward the grave--
who most sorely need, just now,
the cheering words and helpful
ministries which we can give.
You are gathering incense of
affection to scatter about their
coffins; but why should it not be
scattered in the hard paths on
which their feet today are treading?
The kind words are lying in men's
hearts unexpressed, trembling
on their tongues unvoiced--
which will be spoken by and by,
when these weary ones are
sleeping in their graves.
But why should they not be
spoken now, when they are
needed so much, and when
the kind words would give
such cheer and hope?
The flowers are growing
to strew on their graves;
but why not cut them now
to brighten their dreary lives
and dark paths.
Many a godly man goes plodding
through life, living obscurely--
yet living a true Christian life,
doing many a quiet kindness
to his neighbors and friends--
yet seldom hearing a word
of appreciation or praise.
The vases, filled with the incense
of affection, are kept sealed.
The flowers are not cut from
the stems. One day you stand
by his coffin, and there are enough
kind things said to have brightened
every hour of his life--
if only they had been
said at the right time.
There are enough flowers piled
upon his casket, to have kept
his chamber filled with fragrance
all through his years--
if only they had been sent
day by day. How his heavy
heart would have thanked GOD,
if, in the midst of his toils,
burdens, and struggles--
he could have heard a few of the
words of affection and appreciation
which are now wasted on ears that
hear them not!
How much happier he would
have been in his weary days--
if he had known how many
kind friends he had!
But, poor man! he had to die
before the appreciation could
express itself. Then he could
not hear the gentle words spoken
over his cold lifeless body.
The love blossomed out too late!
No comments:
Post a Comment