1 Not now, my child, a little more rough tossing,
A little longer on the billow's foam;
A few more journ'yings in the desert darkness,
And then, the sunshine of thy Father's home!
2 Not now; for I have wand'rers in the distance,
And thou must call them in with patient love;
Not now; for I have sheep upon the mountains,
And thou must follow them where'er they rove.
3 Not now; for I have loved ones sad and weary;
Wilt thou not cheer them with a kindly smile?
Sick ones, who need thee in their lonely sorrow;
Wilt thou not tend them yet a little while?
4 Not now; for wounded hearts are sorely bleeding,
And thou must teach those widowed hearts to sing;
Not now; for orphans' tears are ever falling,
They must be gathered 'neath some shelt'ring wing.
5 Go, with the name of Jesus to the dying,
And speak that Name in all its living pow'r;
Why should thy fainting heart grow chill and weary?
Canst thou not watch with me one little hour?
6 One little hour! and then the glorious crowning,
The golden harp strings, and the victor's palm;
One little hour! and then the hallelujah!
Eternity's long, deep, thanksgiving psalm!
|First Line:||Not now, my child, a little more rough tossing|
|Title:||Not Now, My Child|
|Author:||Mrs. C. Pennefather|
|Topic:||Christ: Winning Souls; Living His Life: Winning Souls; Special Selections: Solos|
|Name:||[Not now, my child, a little more rough tossing]|
|Composer:||Ira D. Sankey|