THINK it not strange, beloved,

When fiercely burns the fiery flame!

Think it not strange, but praise His name.

Who counts thee worthy to partake

Of painful sufferings for His sake.

Nor think it strange

When loved ones scornful from thee turn,

The Truth reject, the message spurn;

Consider Him who thus endured,

And Immortality secured!

Think it not strange, beloved.

If sometimes every door seem closed,

And all thine efforts be opposed,

But calmly wait in patience till

Nor think it strange

When darker grows the “narrow way, —

Press on, thy Master soon shall say,

“Enough, My child, thou hast well done,

Come, enter in, the Prize is won!”

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