January 21 - The Open Secret

"Grief has always been the lot of greatness.
It is an open secret."

Yes, tis true. The Bible does tell of the suffering we shall endure and goes a step further telling us how to handle such suffering. And yet, it is like being warned of how your life changes when children arrive...you can be told but not understand until you are in the midst of it. Or, as an 'empty nest' mother said to me yesterday, "I think to myself, no one told me how hard it would be." But, perhaps, we are told but lack understanding. There is no way to prepare yourself for lessons which are only understood through experience. It is as if, sorrow is a hands on course. It is very much an "open secret"...it is known but still vailed.

"With seams of anguish deep in His brow, the "Man of Sorrows" said, "In the world ye shall have tribulation"--but after this sob comes the psalm of promise, "Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world."

Yes, tis true. We all face tribulations of different sorts. Our sorrows are our own to bear and only His aid (the Word) brings releif.

I wanted to share this beautiful poem I came across which is such comfort to me. It encapsulates the desire of longing to go but willing it stay. I can read it over and over and never tire of its sweet saddness and obedient acquiesence. I hope that it blesses you also.

The Distant Voices
by Anna Shipton

Nearer and nearer day by day the distant voices come;
Soft through the pearly gate they swell, and seem to call me home.
The lamp of life burns faint and low; ay: let it fainter burn;
For who would weep the failing lamp when birds announce the morn?
I saw the faces of my loved gleam through the twilight dim,
And softly on the morning air arose the heaven-born hymn.
With looks of love they gazed on me, as none gaze on me now;
The glory of the Infinite surrounded every brow.
Fair lilies, star-like in the bloom, and waving palms they bore,
And oh, the smiles of peace and joy those heavenly faces wore!
Thou who hast fathomed death's dark tide, save me from death's alarms;
Beneath my trembling soul, oh, stretch Thine everlasting arms!
No second cross, no thorny crown can bruise Thy sacred brow;
Thou who the wine-press trod alone, o'er the dark wave bear me now.
A parting hour, a pang of pain, and then shall pass away
The veil that shrouds Thee where Thou reign'st in everlasting day.
No sin, no sigh, no withering fear, can wring the bosom there;
But basking in Thy smile I shall Thy sinless service share.
How long, O Lord, how long before Thou'lt take me by the hand,
And I, The weakest child, at last among Thy children stand?
Beyond the stars that steadfast shine my spirit pines to soar,
To dwell within my Father's house, and leave that home no more.
O Lord, Thou hast with angel food my fainting spirit fed;
If 'tis Thy will I linger here, bless Thou the path I tread;
And though my soul doth pant to pass within the pearly gate,
Yet teach me for Thy summons, Lord, in patience still to wait.