God took a hearth-fire, warm and bright,
And planted love beside it;
Spun happy laughter through its light,
So gay no gloom could hide it.
He wove a golden thread of song
Among the flick’ring shadows,
Like that where days are bright and long
Upon the summer meadows.
He made a sanctuary fair
With His own presence gifted.
He built a holy altar there
Where hearts should oft be lifted.
With His watch-care perennial
He wrapped it ’round and framed it.
He flung a roof above it all,
And Home was what He named it.
No Room in the Inn (1923)
[Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.]
The stars in the heavens were gleaming
On mountains, and meadows, and rills.
The song of the angels was streaming
While shepherds kept watch on the hills.
The wise men bent low by a manger,
Apart from Earth’s striving and din,
To welcome the Heavenly Stranger,
For there was no room in the inn.
The years have not halted their sweeping,
It is Christmas again on the earth.
Again the glad season we’re keeping,
Recounting the tale of His birth.
Let not our hearts be, as He sees us,
So crowded with pleasure and sin
They can offer no welcome to Jesus.
Lord, let there be room in the inn.
Our Hearts Forget (1923)
[Transcriber’s note: All verses are italicized.]
Our hearts forget,
Amid the daily round of toil and fret.
They are so weak, so prone to lose their hold
On dreams of yesterday, and treasures old.
The thoughts that thrilled them in a vanished day,
Forgotten now, are cold in ashes gray.
Life brings us wondrous days and hours, but yet
Our hearts forget
The times of joy and vision we have met,
The binding vows we once so bravely made,
The fond petitions that we trembling laid
Before the Great, White, Shining Throne above,
The tender, wistful, clinging bonds of love,
Contrition’s anguished and tear-washed regret
Our hearts forget.