Tell me, I pray you, the worth of a
soul,
If you can but measure its worth.
Tell me, what value for you does it
hold
Compared to the treasures of earth?
Some see more value in fortune and fame,
While others seek pow'r and control;
Striving for honour, position, and
name,
Forgetting the worth of a soul.
Some sell their souls for the pleasures
of sin,
Which last for a moment of time;
And value the favour and praise of
men,
While neglecting their souls sublime.
Men place more value on temporal things,
While counting their souls little worth;
Never realizing the sorrow sin brings
When once they have left this fair
earth.
The worth of a soul can never be told,
Though a ransom price has been paid,
By blood more precious than silver
or gold,
For Christ full atonement has made.
The worth of a soul can never be known,
Nor eternity's length be spanned;
The answer lies with the Saviour, alone,
Engraved in His nail-riven hand.
The worth of a soul is measured in love,
And told out in God's wondrous scheme;
When God sent His Son from Heaven above
To die your poor soul to redeem.
Tell me, I pray you, the worth of a
soul,
If you can but measure its cost.
Tell me, what value for you does it
hold,
When it is eternally lost?
It was only a tract
in the cottage, left with a friendly smile;
But the woman's
face grew brighter, as she bent to her daily toil;
And the leaflet
given so kindly was placed with care away,
To read in the
quiet evening at the close of the busy day.
Only a kind word
spoken of the home and the rest above,
Of the wonderful
patience and mercy, and the gift of an infinite love;
And the man, so
hard and callous, heard of this grace so free,
And felt with a
new emotion, then surely He cares for me.
Only a short little
visit to the weary one, sick and lone,
To smooth the ruffled
pillow, and to speak in a gentle tone;
And the sufferer
grew more quiet at the sound of a soothing prayer
For the light of
heaven came gleaming through the shadows settling there.
Only the work of
an hour, one short little hour a week;
Not very long for
labour, not many words to speak;
But the angel of
mercy is passing, with the caller, from door to door;
And the fruits
of the heavenly mission remain for evermore.
Only one life for
service, one talent to lay at His feet;
And efforts and
prayers are needed, and workers in every street;
For eyes are grown
dim and heavy, which a smile of love would light,
And some are far
from the Master, and perishing in the night.
It was only a tract
in the cottage, but its message was clear and plain;
And the voice of
Jesus was calling, and He did not call in vain;
And one more sheaf
was gathered, another soul was won ~
It was but a little
service, but the Lord pronounced "Well done."
Have you
ever stopped to wonder
What this
life is all about?
Why you're
here, and where you're going
When your
lease on time runs out?
Maybe you've
been far too busy
Trying hard
to reach your goals,
Would you
let me ask you kindly
Have you
thought about your soul?
Don't you
know your days are numbered
Though you
may be riding high?
But like
all of us poor mortals
Someday
you'll just up and die.
Your success
and fame and glory
Won't be
worth the bell they toll,
Would you
let me ask you kindly
Have you
thought about your soul???
THE MASTER JEWELLER
Sometime last night a gentle rain
Hung beads of crystal in my fence;
Strung sapphires in the lilac bush;
Set diamond tiaras in the quince.
I woke to watch the morning sun
Strike fiery glitter from each gem
As nature with her lavish hand
Revealed the mastery of Him.
Of God who makes the jewels I hold Seem
bits of triviality,
When He with gentle sun and rain
Can set the world aflame for free.
-Clara Walton Hinson-