Outside the Camp

Latest (so far) unposted status updates:

"Kayla is fiddling around."

"Late evening conversations with siblings are the best."

And now here's a poem that Uncle Tim gave us in class. I've found much encouragement from it, and maybe you will too.

The Young Christian

I cannot give it up
The little world I know--
The innocent delights of youth,
The things I cherish so!
'Tis true, I love my Lord,
And long to do His will;
But oh, I may enjoy the world
And be a Christian still!

I love the hour of prayer,
I love the hymns of praise,
I love the blessed Word which tells
Of God's redeeming grace.
But--I am human still!
And while I dwell on earth,
God surely will not grudge the hours
I spend in harmless mirth!

These things belong to youth,
And are its natural right--
My dress, my pastimes and my friends,
The merry and the bright.
My Father's heart is kind!
He will not count it ill
That my small corner of the world
Should please and hold me still.

And yet--"outside the camp"--
'Twas there my Saviour died!
It was the world that cast Him forth
And saw Him crucified.
Can I take part with those
Who nailed Him to the tree?
And where His Name is never praised,
Is that the place for me?

Nay, world! I turn away,
Though thou seem fair and good;
That friendly outstretched hand of thine
Is stained with Jesus' blood.
If in thy lease device
I stoop to take a part,
All unaware, thine influence steals
God's presence from my heart.

I miss my Saviour's smile,
Whene'er I walk thy ways;
Thy laughter drowns the Spirit's voice,
And chokes the springs of praise.
Whene'er I turn aside
To join thee for and hour,
The face of Christ grows blurred and dim,
And prayer has lost its power!

Farewell--Henceforth my place
Is with the Lamb who died.
My Sovereign! While I have Thy love,
What can I want beside?
Thyself, blest Lord, art now
My free and loving choice,
In whom, though now I see Thee nought,
Believing, I rejoice.

Shame on me that I sought
Another joy than this,
Or dreamed a heart at rest with Thee
Could crave for earthly bliss!
These vain and worthless things,
I put them all aside:
His goodness fills my longing soul,
And I am satisfied.

Lord Jesus! Let me dwell
"Ouside the camp" with Thee!
Since Thou art there, then there alone,
Is peace and rest for me.
Thy dear reproach to bear
I'll count my highest gain,
Till Thou return, Rejected On,
To take Thy power, and reign!
--Margaret Mauro (aged 22)

"Let us go forth therefore unto Him without the camp, bearing His reproach."
Hebrews 13:13

I've found this poem helpful when I find myself distracted from true reality and am caught up in the pleasures of this world. But even more I've found certain phrases to be just what I need when I'm longing for something more that I can't even quite name:

"My Sovereign--while I have Thy love, What can I want beside?"

"His goodness fills my longing soul, And I am satisfied."

Perhaps what I'm actually longing for is right where I left it. And He's just waiting for me to realize it.