The Ministry of Intercession A Plea for More Prayer

Excerpt

THE MINISTRY OF INTERCESSION

Thereis no holy serviceBut hath its secret bliss:Yet, of all blessèd ministries,Is one so dear as this?The ministry that cannot beA wondering seraph’s dower,Enduing mortal weaknessWith more than angel-power;The ministry of purest loveUncrossed by any fear,That bids us meet     At the Master’s feetAnd keeps us very near.
God’s ministers are many,For this His gracious will,Remembrancers that day and nightThis holy office fill.While some are hushed in slumber,Some to fresh service wake,And thus the saintly numberNo change or chance can break.And thus the sacred coursesAre evermore fulfilled,The tide of grace     By time or placeIs never stayed or stilled.
[px]Oh, if our ears were openedTo hear as angels doThe Intercession-chorusArising full and true,We should hear it soft up-wellingIn morning’s pearly light;Through evening’s shadows swellingIn grandly gathering might;The sultry silence fillingOf noontide’s thunderous glow,And the solemn starlight thrillingWith ever-deepening flow.
We should hear it through the rushingOf the city’s restless roar,And trace its gentle gushingO’er ocean’s crystal floor:We should hear it far up-floatingBeneath the Orient moon,And catch the golden notingFrom the busy Western noon;And pine-robed heights would echoAs the mystic chant up-floats,And the sunny plain     Resound againWith the myriad-mingling notes.
Who are the blessèd ministersOf this world-gathering band?All who have learnt one language,Through each far-parted land;All who have learnt the storyOf Jesu’s love and grace,And are longing for His gloryTo shine in every face.All who have known the FatherIn Jesus Christ our Lord,And know the might     And love the lightOf the Spirit in the Word.
[pxi]Yet there are some who see notTheir calling high and grand,Who seldom pass the portals,And never boldly standBefore the golden altarOn the crimson-stainèd floor,Who wait afar and falter,And dare not hope for more.Will ye not join the blessèd ranksIn their beautiful array?Let intercession blend with thanksAs ye minister to-day!
There are little ones among themChild-ministers of prayer,White robes of intercessionThose tiny servants wear.First for the near and dear onesIs that fair ministry,Then for the poor black children,So far beyond the sea.The busy hands are folded,As the little heart upliftsIn simple love,     To God above,Its prayer for all good gifts.
There are hands too often wearyWith the business of the day,With God-entrusted duties,Who are toiling while they pray.They bear the golden vials,And the golden harps of praiseThrough all the daily trials,Through all the dusty ways,These hands, so tired, so faithful,With odours sweet are filled,And in the ministry of prayerAre wonderfully skilled.
[pxii]There are ministers unlettered,Not of Earth’s great and wise,Yet mighty and unfetteredTheir eagle-prayers arise....