It Matters To Me About You

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 would’st really be
Conformed unto the image
Of Him Who died for thee.

Thou can’st not be like Jesus
Till self is crucified;
And as a daily process
The cross must be applied.

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

I have but one sole object –
That thou should’st fruitful be!
And is it not thy longing
That I much fruit should see?

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

Remember that I love thee!
Think not I am unkind,
When trials come to prove thee,
And joy seems left behind.

‘Tis but a little longer
Until I come again;
What now seems so mysterious
Will all be then made plain.

Take courage then; and fear not!
Press forward to the prize,
A crown of life awaits thee,
Glory before thee lies!

–Alice C. Lefroy

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