One by one He took them from me,
All the things I valued most,
Until I was empty handed;
Every glittering toy was lost.
And I walked earth's highway, grieving,
In my rags and poverty,
'Til I heard His voice inviting,
"Lift your empty hands to Me."
So I held my hands toward heaven,
And He filled them with a store
Of His own transcendant riches,
'Til they could contain no more.
And at last I comprehended
With my stupid mind and dull,
That God could not pour His riches
Into hands already full.—Selected
I am rich in heaven, in my children. Already I have sent thither many. Have I lost them? Not one of them. They are nobler and more worthy of love than they were then. They have been saved for me better than I could have saved them for myself. I have laid them up; and I have verified the declaration, "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."—Selected
I heard lately a simple but significant story. A gardener had a rare and beautiful flower in his charge. He had bestowed great care on it, and it was approaching perfection. One day it was missing; some hand had cut it from the stem. The gardener was troubled and anxious, but was calmed and satisfied at once when the Master came round and said, "I took it."—Selected