A little bit of Amy Carmichael for your day

Back in an earlier season of reading Elisabeth Elliot's works, I was introduced to Amy Carmichael (she was oft quoted in Mrs. Elliot's writing). Amy Carmichael was a woman who, originally Irish, spent most of her life serving in South India. She was also a gifted poet, and worshipped God so beautifully, so honestly through writing.

I have a copy of one of the collections of her poetry, Toward Jerusalem, and, along with my Bible, I used to carry it around with me everywhere. The pages are worn, stained in one corner with green ink from my fountain pen, highlighted and starred in various places from my pencil, and, occasionally as I flip through the pages, I find a pressed leaf or flower from my time working at camp. I love these words, and God has used them so deeply in my own worship and heart-thought.

I recently discovered this dear book in one of our boxes in the garage, and brought it in, though it has been many months since I've fingered through its pages; but tonight I read again some words which so spoke to me before, and I would love to share a few of them with you. So, without further ado, here you are.

"Fret Not Thyself"

Far in the future
Lieth a fear,
Like a long, low mist of grey,
Gathering to fall in dreary rain,
Thus doth thy heart within thee complain;
And even now thou art afraid, for round thy dwelling
The flying winds are ever telling
Of the fear that lieth grey,
Like a gloom of brooding mist upon the way.

But the Lord is always kind,
Be not blind,
Be not blind
To the shining of His face,
To the comforts of His grace.
Hath He ever failed thee yet?
Never, never: wherefore fret?
O fret not thyself, nor let
Thy heart be troubled,
Neither let it be afraid.

Near by thy footfall
Springeth a joy,
Like a new-blown little flower,
Growing for thee, to make thee glad.
Let thy countenance be no more sad,
But wake the voice of joy and health within thy dwelling,
And let thy tongue be ever telling,
Not of fear that lieth grey,
But of little laughing flowers beside the way.

For the Lord is always kind,
Be not blind,
Be not blind
To the shining of His face,
To the comforts of His grace.
He hath never failed thee yet.
Never will His love forget.
O fret not thyself, nor let
Thy heart be troubled,
Neither let it be afraid.

"Heart's-Ease"

O there was never a blossom
That bloomed so blithe as she,
On the bitter land, by the salt wet sand,
On the margin of the sea.
Where never a flower but the gorse can blow,
And the dry sea-pink that the mermen sow,
There grows she.

O there was never a blossom
That bloomed so brave as she,
On the narrow ledge of the mountain's edge
Where the wild-fowl hardly be,
And over her head the Four Seasons go
With a rush of wings when the Storm Kings blow --
There grows she.

O there was never a blossom
That bloomed content as she,
In the heart that burned, and loved, and learned
Of the Man of Galilee,
And plant her high, or plant her low,
In a bed of fire, or a field of snow,
There grows she.

"The Traveller"

Love, travelling in the greatness of His strength,
Found me alone,
Wearied a little by the journey's length,
Though I had known,
All the long way, many a kindly air,
And flowers had blossomed for me everywhere.

And yet Love found me fearful, and He stayed;
Love stayed by me.
Let not thy heart be troubled or dismayed,
My child, said He.
Slipped from me then all troubles, all alarms;
For Love had gathered me into His arms.