Scripture Verse

They shall be Mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up My jewels. Malachi 3:17

Introduction

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Myra G. Plantz (1856–1914)

Words: My­ra G. Plantz (1856–1914), alt. Pub­lished post­hu­mous­ly in Songs for Qu­iet Hours (New York: Me­tho­dist Book Con­cern, 1915), pag­es 67–68.

Music: Blott en Dag Os­kar Ahn­felt, 1872 (🔊 pdf nwc).

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Oskar Ahnfelt (1813–1882)

Lyrics

O ea­ger hand, what are you seek­ing?
For the gold the rug­ged mount­ains keep?
For the pure white pearls, their beau­ty ly­ing
’Neath the tan­gled sea­weed of the deep?
Do you search the sands of dist­ant river,
Where the pre­cious star-like dia­monds hide?
Do you wait be­side some ocean ev­er,
For the ships that left with morn­ing tide?

O rest­less brain, what keeps you burn­ing?
Is it sec­rets hid in an­cient lore?
Or the mys­tic leaves of na­ture turn­ing,
Reading where so ma­ny failed be­fore?
Do you strive that ere the strug­gle clos­es
Laurel crown at last may grace your head?
For a glo­ri­ous name en­wreathed with ros­es,
To live on when oth­ers are all dead?

O ran­somed soul, for what the liv­ing?
For what your la­bors, pray­ers and tears?
Oh, what is worth the price­less giv­ing—
Time pre­par­ing for im­mor­tal years?
Do you ga­ther flow­ers that fade while blow­ing
All their sweet­ness on the air of June?
Do you rest where rip­ened grain is grow­ing,
Though the night-time com­eth all too soon?

The gold of mount­ain, gems of ocean,
Were worth strug­gling if life meant much less;
But what re­pays a soul’s de­vo­tion,
But that which eter­nal years will bless?
Can the gold and gems of earth be tak­en
When the King comes for His jew­els bright?
When the crowns of earth are all for­sak­en,
And the spir­it takes it up­ward flight?

There are jew­els worth a life’s hard toil­ing
Lost in sin and shame’s dark ocean waves,
And gems that world­ly rust is spoil­ing,
And gold bur­ied deep in liv­ing graves;
Gather them, though bil­lows cold are break­ing,
And the tem­pest bit­ter­ness may bring;
Save those pre­cious gems, though heart be ach­ing;
O, ga­ther jew­els for the King!

There is not a soul so black with sin­ning
That the Lamb’s pure blood can­not re­store;
Then let all your strength be spent in win­ning
The lost to lov­ing arms once more.
Then will life be like a peace­ful ri­ver,
And then death Well done! and crown will bring,
While in His bright homes will shine for­ev­er
All the jew­els you ga­thered for the King.