PRESSED! Author Unknown

Pressed out of measure, and pressed to all length;
Pressed so intensely it seems beyond strength;


Pressed in the body and pressed in the soul;
Pressed in the mind till the dark surges roll;


Pressure by foes, and pressure by friends;
Pressure on pressure till life nearly ends.


Pressed into knowing no helper but God;
Pressed into loving the staff and the rod;


Pressed into liberty where nothing clings;
Pressed into faith for impossible things;


Pressed into living a life in the Lord;
Pressed into living a Christ-life outpoured.

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Excerpt: The Hidden Life……Saphir

“an old saint describes his history—

“I ask’d the Lord that I might grow
in faith and love, and ev’ry grace;
Might more of His salvation know,
And seek more earnestly His face.

“‘Twas He who taught me thus to pray,
And He, I trust, has answer’d prayer;
But it has been in such a way,
As almost drove me to despair.

“I hoped that in some favour’d hour
At once He’d answer my request,
And by His Love’s constraining power
    Subdue my sins, and give me rest.

“Instead of this, He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart;
And let the angry powers of hell
Assault my soul in every part.

“Yea, more; with His own hand he seem’d
Intent to aggravate my woe;
Cross’d all the fair designs I schem’d,
    Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.

“‘Lord, why is this?’  I trembling cried;
    ‘Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?’
”Tis in this way,’ the Lord replied,
    ‘I answer prayer for grace and faith.

“‘These inward trials I employ,
    From self and pride to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou mayst seek thy all in Me.'”

I NEEDED THE QUIET

I needed the quiet so He drew me aside,
Into the shadows where we could confide.
Away from the bustle where all the day long
I hurried and worried when active and strong.

I needed the quiet though at first I rebelled,
But gently, so gently, my cross He upheld,
And whispered so sweetly of spiritual things.
Though weakened in body, my spirit took wings
To heights never dreamed of when active and gay.
He loved me so greatly He drew me away.

I needed the quiet. No prison my bed,
But a beautiful valley of blessings instead–
A place to grow richer in Jesus to hide.
I needed the quiet so He drew me aside.

Alice Hansche Mortenson

IS YOUR ALL ON THE ALTAR

You have longed for sweet peace,
And for faith to increase,
And have earnestly, fervently prayed;
But you cannot have rest,
Or be perfectly blest,
Until all on the altar is laid.

Refrain:
Is your all on the altar of sacrifice laid?
Your heart does the Spirit control?
You can only be blest,
And have peace and sweet rest,
As you yield Him your body and soul.

Would you walk with the Lord,
In the light of His Word,
And have peace and contentment alway?
You must do His sweet will,
To be free from all ill,
On the altar your all you must lay.

Refrain

O we never can know
What the Lord will bestow
Of the blessings for which we have prayed,
Till our body and soul
He doth fully control,
And our all on the altar is laid.

Refrain

Who can tell all the love
He will send from above,
And how happy our hearts will be made,
Of the fellowship sweet
We shall share at His feet,
When our all on the altar is laid.

[Elisha A. Hoffman, copyright 1900)

FOR YOU LOVED ME FIRST……A Poem

I sought You
With tears, I sought You
And I found You–
Or rather I was found by You.
My seeking was Your seeking
For You loved me first.

You found Me
With joy, You found me.
My spirit leaped—
Springing up like a child at play.
Ageless, deathless, without end
For You loved me first.

You led me
Each step, You led me
And I confess—
Never once did I know the way.
Cloud by day and fire by night,
For You loved me first.

You kept me
Through time, You kept me
Though I wandered—
Always true, Shepherd to my soul.
All the waters failed to quench,
For you loved me first.

(author unknown)

LOW AT THY FEET

Low at Thy feet, Lord Jesus,
This is the place for me;
Here I have learned deep lessons:
Truth that has set me free.

Free from myself, Lord Jesus,
Free from the ways of men;
Chains of thought that have bound me
Never can bind again.

None but Thyself, Lord Jesus,
Conquered this wayward will,
But for Thy love constraining,
I have been wayward still.

(found in J.N.Darby’s Bible after his home call)

Hymn……George Matheson

At age 20 George Matheson (1842-1906) was engaged to be married but began going blind. When he broke the news to his fiancee, she decided she could not go through life with a blind husband. She left him. Before losing his sight he had written two books of theology and some feel that if he had retained his sight he could have been the greatest leader of the church of Scotland in his day.

A special providence was that George’s sister offered to care for him. With her help, George left the world of academia for pastoral ministry and wound up preaching to 1500 each week–blind.

The day came, however, in 1882, when his sister fell in love and prepared for marriage herself. The evening before the wedding, George’s whole family had left to get ready for the next day’s celebration. He was alone and facing the prospect of living the rest of his life without the one person who had come through for him. On top of this, he was doubtless reflecting on his own aborted wedding day twenty years earlier. It is not hard to imagine the fresh waves of grief washing over him that night.

In the darkness of that moment George Matheson wrote this hymn. He remarked afterward that it took him five minutes and that it was the only hymn he ever wrote that required no editing.

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that foll’west all my way,
I yield my flick’ring torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.