Such a sensation Sunday’s preacher
“Christian!” he cried, “what is your stock-
Alas! Too often nil. No time to pray;
No interview with Christ from day to day,
A hurried prayer, maybe, just gabbled
A random text — for any one will do.”
Then gently, lovingly, with look intense,
He leaned towards us —
“Is this common sense?
No person in his rightful mind will try
To run his business so, lest by-and-by
The thing collapses, smirching his good
And he, insolvent, face the world with
I heard it all; and something inly said
That all was true. The daily toil and press
Had crowded out my hopes of holiness.
Still, my old self rose, reasoning:
How can you,
With strenuous work to do —
Real slogging work — say, how can you
With leisured folks? Why, you could
grow in grace
If you had time . . . the daily Interview
Was never meant for those who wash and
But yet a small Voice whispered:
“For My sake
Keep tryst with Me!
There are so many minutes in a day,
So spare Me ten.
It shall be proven, then,
Ten minutes set apart can well repay
You shall accomplish more
If you will shut your door
For ten short minutes just to watch and
“Lord, if I do
Set ten apart for You”
(I dared, yes dared, to reason thus with
“The baker’s sure to come;
Or Jane will call
To say some visitor is in the hall;
Or I shall smell the porridge burning, yes,
And run to stop it in my hastiness.
There’s not ten minutes, Lord, in all the
I can be sure of peace in which to watch
But all that night,
With calm insistent might,
That gentle Voice spake softly, lovingly —
“Keep tryst with Me!
You have devised a dozen different ways
Of getting easy meals on washing days;
You spend much anxious thought on
On moving ironmould from tiny frocks;
‘Twas you who found
A way to make the sugar lumps go round;
You, who invented ways and means of
Nice spicy buns for tea, hot from the baking,
When margarine was short . . . and can-
Who made the time to join the butter queue
Make time again for Me?
Yes, will you not, with all your daily
Use woman’s wit in scheming and con-
To keep that tryst with Me?”
Like ice long bound
On powdered frosty ground,
My erring will all suddenly gave way.
The kind soft wind of His sweet pleading
And swiftly, silently, before I knew,
The warm love loosed and ran.
Life-giving floods began,
And so most lovingly I answered Him:
“Lord, yes, I will, and can.
I will keep tryst with Thee, Lord, come
It is a wondrous and surprising thing
How that ten minutes takes the piercing
From vexing circumstance and poison-
Hurled by the enemy straight at my
So, to the woman tempest-tossed and
By household cares, and hosts of things
With all my strength God bids me say
“Dear soul, do try the daily Interview!”