IT MATTERS TO HIM!

My, child, I know thy sorrows,
Thine every grief I share;
I know how thou art tested,
And, what is more-I care.

Think not I am indifferent
To what affecteth thee;
Thy weal and woe are matters
Of deep concern to Me.

But child, I have a purpose
In all that I allow;
I ask thee then to trust Me,
Though all seems dark just now.

How often thou hast asked Me
To purge away thy dross!
But this refining process
Involves for thee-a cross

There is no other pathway
If thou wouldst really be
Conformed unto the image
Of Him Who died for thee.

Thou canst not be like Jesus
Till self is crucified
And as a daily process
The cross must be applied.

Just as the skillful gard'ner
Applies the pruning knife,
E'en so, I too would sever
The worthless from thy life.

I have but one sole object-
That thou shouldst fruitful be-
And is it not thy longing
That I much fruit should see?

Then shink not from the training
I needs must give to thee;
I know just how to make thee
What I would have thee be.

~Author-Unknown~