My poem of the week this week is \u201cThe Battle of Life,\u201d by Elizabeth Prentiss. It is a good reminder to me of the call to press on beyond my comforts in obedience to the work the Lord calls me to. It is so easy to shift to pursuing my comfort rather than seeking first His kingdom. I thought it an appropriate word in the final week of the semester.<\/p>\n
The wintry storm was raging loud without,
\nAnd to and fro,
\nThe angry winds flung carelessly about,
\nThe falling snow.<\/p>\n
Luxuriously before the ruddy fire
\nI sat at ease,
\nThe only object of my heart\u2019s desire
\nMyself to please.<\/p>\n
A voice aroused me from my idle dreams,
\n\u201cRise, rise, my child!
\nShake thyself loose from these unfruitful schemes,
\nThese fancies wild.<\/p>\n
Come forth with me, and buffet wind and storm
\nAnd icy cold;
\nCome as thou art, nor stay thy shrinking form
\nThus to enfold!\u201d<\/p>\n
It was the Master\u2019s voice. I could but yield
\nTo its behest,
\nWhile dread repugnance lay but ill concealed
\nWithin my breast.<\/p>\n
Behind me closed my sheltering door; I faced
\nThe tempest rude;
\nWild, savage winds my shrinking form embraced
\nWhile thus I stood<\/p>\n
Upon the threshold, casting longing eyes
\nBack to my home,
\nReluctant from my childhood\u2019s Paradise
\nEnforced to roam.<\/p>\n
Then plunging onward towards th\u2019 appointed way,
\nI madly went,
\nAnd night and day, yea, many a night and day,
\nMy figure bent<\/p>\n
Beneath the blast. Assailed with shuddering dire,
\nMy fears oppressed,
\nDespairing, hopeless, stript of all desire,
\nI onward pressed.<\/p>\n
Until I heard above the thunder\u2019s roll
\nThe Master\u2019s voice
\nArise once more. It cried, \u201cOh, faithless soul,
\nBehold thy choice!<\/p>\n
A life-long childhood, basking idly on
\nThe lap of ease,
\nOr manhood\u2019s strength by long endurance won
\nIn toils like these.<\/p>\n
Whether to gird thyself to walk with Me
\nMid conflict dread,
\nOr back effeminate to ease to flee-
\nLiving-yet dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Already by my labors stronger grown,
\nI stood and cried:
\n\u201cMaster and Lord! With Thee, with Thee alone,
\nlet me abide.<\/p>\n
Let me but know I buffet wind and storm,
\nWith Thee, with Thee!
\nUpon my path Thine own divinest form
\nBut let me see!\u201d<\/p>\n
Thus in the hour of battle choice was made!
\nChoice of unrest!
\nThus Christian manhood seeking, undismayed
\nThe storm I breast.<\/p>\n
No leisure now, no dreams, no idle time;
\nI wrestle on;
\nBeat, icy winds, oppose, oh adverse clime,
\nTill victory\u2019s won.<\/p>\n
For I shall win! I shall come forth at last
\nNot lost, but found!
\nA Christian warrior whom each stormy blast
\nHath victor crowned!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
My poem of the week this week is \u201cThe Battle of Life,\u201d by Elizabeth Prentiss. It is a good reminder to me of the call to press on beyond my comforts in obedience to the work the Lord calls me to. It is so easy to shift to pursuing my comfort rather than seeking first …<\/p>\n