Sunday, January 3, 2016

When my leaves fall, wilt Thou encompass them?: Amy Carmichael


When my leaves fall,
wilt Thou encompass them?
The gold of autumn flown,
 the bare branch brown,
The brittle twig and stem,
The tired leaves dropping down
Wilt Thou encompass that which men call dead?
 I see the rain, coldly
smoth'ring snow;
My leaves,
Lie very low.
So the heart
questioneth, white winter near;
Till, jocund as the glorious voice of spring,
Cometh His "Do not fear,
But sing; rejoice and sing,
For sheltered by the coverlet of snow
Are secrets of delight,
and there shall be
Uprising that shall show
All that through winter
I prepared for thee."
Winter, Amy Carmichael