Holding Your hand I walk the Way,
You understand all I would say;
Holding Your hand I need not pray.
Lord, I belong here at Your side,
Singing Your song, swinging Your stride,
Joy surging with the strength of a tide.
Beside us each tree shines against the blue,
No need to see some distant view.
The future must be here, now, with You.
This poem was written by a wife of a missionary in China who suffered much. I read it recently in a book by E. Stanley Jones. He writes that joy is a mark of maturity in a Christian. Joy is not dependent upon circumstances, rather upon our peace of heart and mind in Christ Jesus, our Lord. He writes, " When you sing His song and swing His stride, then automatically joy surges with the strength of a tide." (Christian Maturity, E. Stanley Jones, 1957) This is a worthy goal, and by God's grace He will wrought in us enduring joy.
You understand all I would say;
Holding Your hand I need not pray.
Lord, I belong here at Your side,
Singing Your song, swinging Your stride,
Joy surging with the strength of a tide.
Beside us each tree shines against the blue,
No need to see some distant view.
The future must be here, now, with You.
This poem was written by a wife of a missionary in China who suffered much. I read it recently in a book by E. Stanley Jones. He writes that joy is a mark of maturity in a Christian. Joy is not dependent upon circumstances, rather upon our peace of heart and mind in Christ Jesus, our Lord. He writes, " When you sing His song and swing His stride, then automatically joy surges with the strength of a tide." (Christian Maturity, E. Stanley Jones, 1957) This is a worthy goal, and by God's grace He will wrought in us enduring joy.
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