Poems From The Flyleaves

At What a Cost

Chosen, redeemed, in the children’s place,
Holy and blameless before His face,
Once guilty, ruined, and lost;
Not e’en doth the light of His presence show
A single stain—washed whiter than snow;
But, ah! at what a cost!

Not glittering gems, nor silver and gold,
Not worlds though teeming with wealth untold,
Could for our ransom suffice.
No, the Church of God was bought with the blood
Of the holy, spotless Lamb of God;
This, this was the costly price.

Oh wondrous truth! Deep in each breast
By the Spirit of God be it impressed,
And there by His power abide,
Grant, oh our God, that our life below
May brightly reflect the truths we know,
That Thou mayest be glorified.


“Often I am tempted to flee my task
But that Strange Man upon the Cross
Bars my way and holds me back.”


“Bold infidelity; turn pale and die.
Beneath this stone four sleeping infants lie;
Say, are they lost or saved?
If death’s by sin they sinned for they are here,
If Heaven’s by works in Heaven they can’t appear,
Reason, ah, how depraved!
Turn to the Bible’s sacred page, the knot’s untied.
They died, for Adam sinned;
They live, for Jesus died.”

Epitaph on a tombstone over four children, in
St. Andrews Church Yard, Scotland

I hear a Voice you cannot hear,
Which says I must not stay.
I see a Hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me away.

I sometimes feel the thread of life is slender
And soon with me the labor will be wrought,
Then grows my heart to other hearts more tender,
The time is short.

D. M. Clark

The Hands of Christ

“The hands of Christ seem very frail
For they were broken by a nail;
But only they reach heaven at last
Whom those frail broken Hands hold fast.”

J. R. Moreland

The following is pasted in the margin of H.A.I.’s Bible beside Romans 6:16—“Obedience”

Make me a captive, Lord,
And then I shall be free;
Force me to render up my sword,
And I shall conqueror be.
I sink in life’s alarms
When by myself I stand;
Imprison me within thine arms,
And strong shall be my hand.

My will is not my own
Till thou hast made it thine;
If it would reach the monarch’s throne
It must its crown resign:
It only stands unbent
Amid the clashing strife
When on Thy bosom it has leant,
And found in Thee its life.

George Matheson

“Whoso hath felt the Spirit of the Highest
Cannot confound, nor doubt Him nor deny.
Yea, with one voice, oh world thou thou deniest
Stand thou on that side, for on THIS am I.”

Workmen of God! oh, lose not heart,
But learn what God is like;
And in the darkest battlefield
Thou shalt know where to strike.

Thrice blest is he to whom is given
The instinct that can tell
That God is in the field when He
Is most invisible.

Blest too is he who can divine
Where real right doth lie,
And dares to take the side that seems
Wrong to man’s blindfold eye.

Then learn to scorn the praise of men,
And learn to lose with God;
For Jesus won the world through shame,
And beckons thee His road.

As He can endless glory weave,
From what men reckon shame,
In His own world He is content
To play a losing game.


“Marvel not that Christ in glory
All my inmost heart hath won,
Not a Star to cheer my darkness
But a light beyond the sun.
I have seen the face of Jesus
Tell me not of ought beside,
I have heard the voice of Jesus
All my soul is satisfied.
In the radiance of the glory,
First I saw His blessed face,
And forever shall that glory
Be my home, my dwelling place.”

“Ah! little I’ll reck, when the journey is o’er,
Of the burdens and griefs I so dreaded, and bore—
They’ll all be forgot as I enter the door.
With that light on my face, and that song in my ears
How small my regard for past troubles and fears,
While my harp makes the music I’ve longed for for years.”

“When I am dying how glad I shall be
That the lamp of my life has been blazed out for Thee
I shall not regret one thing that I gave,
Money or time one sinner to save.
I shall not mind that the way has been rough;
That Thy blest feet led the way for me is enough;
When I am dying how glad I shall be
That the lamp of my life has been blazed out for Thee.”

They’re Dear to God

Oh that, when Christians meet and part,
These words were graved on ev’ry heart—
“They’re dear to God!”
However wilful and unwise,
We’ll look on them with loving eyes—
“They’re dear to God!”
Oh, wonder!—to the Eternal One
Dear as His own beloved Son;
Dearer to Jesus than His blood,
Dear as the Spirit’s fixed abode—
“They’re dear to God!”

When tempted to give pain for pain,
How would this thought our words restrain,
“They’re dear to God!”
When truth compels us to contend,
What love with all our strife should blend!
“They’re dear to God.”
When they would shun the pilgrim’s lot
For this vain world, forget them not,
But win them back with love and prayer;
They never can be happy there,
If dear to God.

Shall we be there so near, so dear,
And be estranged and cold whilst here—
All dear to God?
By the same cares and toils opprest,
We lean upon one faithful Breast,
We hasten to the same repose;
How bear or do enough for those
So dear to God!

“I pass within the glory even now
Where shapes and words are not
For joy that passeth words, O Lord art Thou,
And bliss that passeth thought.”

Quotations From The Flyleaves

“Remember the devil can wall you round, but he cannot roof you in.”

—Hudson Taylor to Dan Crawford.

“If you must speak your mind, then mind how you speak.”

“God is a substitute for everything, but nothing is a substitute for God.”

“The gospel of Christ once heard is always the gospel which has been heard. Nothing can ever alter that.”

—Alexander MacLaren.

“Deus Meus mea omnia.” Motto of Francis d’Assisi

“When I was rich, I had God in everything; now I am poor and I have everything in God.”

—Testimony of a ruined business man.

“I will place no value on anything I have or may possess except in relation to the kingdom of Christ.”

—David Livingstone.

God has wonderful things to display if He could only get the show cases.

“Young man, attend to the voice of one who has possessed a certain degree of fame in the world, and who will shortly appear before his Maker: Read the Bible every day of your life.”

—Samuel Johnson, when dying,
to a young gentleman who visited him.

“I am in the place where it is demanded of conscience and of God that I shall speak the truth; and speak it I will: impugn it whoso lists.”

—John Knox in the pulpit of St. Giles.