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What Will Jesus Say? 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 By 
 
 MRS. MARY T. HARSHMAN 
 
 VI 
 
 / sowed the seed in doubt and pain 
 The harvest, I do not know. 
 The Master will care for the work I did 
 As Eternity will show. 
 
: 
 
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 COPYRIGHT 1915 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. MARY T. HARSHMAN 
 
 m 0,\ 
 ■ [01826 
 
WHAT WILL JESUS SAY? 
 
 F we live for self, not others, 
 
 If we idle time away, 
 If we speak no word of comfort, 
 What, what will Jesus say ? 
 
 What, if while the fields are whitening, 
 And while others work and pray, 
 We sit idle in His vineyard, 
 What, what will Jesus say? 
 
 If we speak no word for Jesus, 
 And can neither work or pray, 
 When we meet to do His service, 
 What, O what will Jesus say ? 
 
 If the harvest is not garnered 
 While we walk the King's highway, 
 If to Him we bring no treasure 
 What, O what will Jesus say ? 
 
 We must do our work for Jesus 
 Now, while it is called today, 
 If we bring no sheaves at harvest, 
 What, what will Jesus say ? 
 
Page 2 
 
 THE GRAVES ON THE HILL 
 
 Providence Cemetery, Clinton County, Indiana. 
 
 3N the twilight gray I sit and dream 
 
 Of the scenes that my childhood knew; 
 I see once more the faces so dear, 
 That long ago passed from my view. 
 
 My darling father so young and strong, 
 
 As he fought the battle of life 
 For the loved ones in the sweet home nest, 
 
 The happy children and wife. 
 
 But sickness came, the strong man bowed 
 Like a tree by the tempest tossed, 
 
 His life went out, the world seemed dark, 
 And all life's pleasures lost. 
 
 They bore him away to a grave on the hill, 
 
 And tenderly laid him to rest, 
 Where the birds sing sweet in summer time, 
 
 And the earth with blossoms is dressed. 
 
 The grass grows green on that lowly bed, 
 
 On marble is carved his name, 
 Many tears have watered that mound, 
 
 And none were tears of shame. 
 
 Years passed by, the Angel of death 
 
 Came to our home once more, 
 And from the hearts that loved her so, 
 
 A darling sister bore. 
 
 And then another grave was made 
 
 Close by the one on the hill; 
 Our hearts seemed broke although we knew 
 
 We must bow to His sovereign will. 
 
 With folded hands, curls brushed away, 
 
 And blue eyes closed forever, 
 They bore her away from our childhood home, 
 
 For earthly ties must sever. 
 
 JUL 20 1915 
 
Page 3 
 
 And laid her to rest beside the grave 
 Where the grass and flowers grow; 
 
 And the birds sing sweet at set of sun, 
 Or when rosy dawns aglow. 
 
 And there they sleep the last long sleep, 
 
 So sweetly side by side — 
 The strong young man called home so soon, 
 
 And the little girl who died. 
 
 And my feet have wandered far away 
 From the dear graves on the hill ; 
 
 Years have flown and changes come, 
 And yet I love them still. 
 
 Often times as the shadows gray 
 
 Creep over the window sill, 
 My mind still wanders far away 
 
 To the two graves on the hill. 
 
 And I seem to stand in the place once more 
 Where we laid them down to rest; 
 
 And looking upward where they're gone 
 Whisper softly : "God knows best." 
 
 MOTHER'S DAY 
 
 , UST a Baby's cradle 
 Rocking to and fro ; 
 Mother never tires, 
 For she loves him so. 
 
 When he smiles, she's happy, 
 When he's sick, she prays; 
 Taking care of Baby, 
 So she spends her days. 
 
 When the Baby, older grown 
 Plays and romps in glee; 
 Mother smiles upon him 
 Clasps him on her knee. 
 
Page 4 
 
 Passing- years bring changes ; 
 The boy becomes a man, 
 He must take his place 
 Amid the battle's van. 
 
 Mother never changes, 
 Her love's just the same; 
 He is still her darling 
 "Baby" still his name. 
 
 No difference where he wanders 
 Nor what may him befall, 
 There is no change in her, 
 Mother loves through all. 
 
 Are you thinking now of mother 
 And of how she used to pray? 
 Is she yet among the living? 
 Tell her of your love today. 
 
 Is she looking for a letter? 
 Don't put it off until tomorrow; 
 Write a loving one today, 
 It may save you years of sorrow. 
 
 Is she now at home in Heaven? 
 Has she passed from earth away? 
 Wear a white carnation, 
 For this is mother's day. 
 
 I fancy from the azure 
 Of the clear, bright summer sky, 
 Mother faces smile upon us 
 As the years are passing by. 
 
 Tender memories throng about us, 
 Of the joys of other days; 
 Like the fragrance of the roses 
 Or the moonlight's silvery rays. 
 
 And we find a peace and comfort 
 As we pass along life's way, 
 For some time up in Heaven 
 We will meet on Mother's Day. 
 
Page 5 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 ROM the city of Jerusalem 
 
 'Cross the plains of Jericho, 
 A certain man went on his way 
 
 Many long years ago. 
 
 But cruel thieves were round about, 
 
 And seized this helpless man ; 
 Who stripped and wounded him, 
 
 As only the wicked can. 
 
 And left him lying there half dead. 
 
 By chance a priest came by 
 But when he saw the helpless man, 
 
 "Passed by" with scornful eye. 
 
 And soon another one came by, 
 
 A haughty proud Levite; 
 Came near, and looked upon his woe, 
 
 A most heartrending sight. 
 
 But he would not stoop to help, 
 
 So filled was he with pride; 
 And with a look of unconcern, 
 
 "Passed by on the other side." 
 
 A good Samaritan came by, 
 
 With loving, tender care 
 He dressed his wounds and cared for him, 
 
 His oil and wine did share. 
 
 "Now take good care of him," said he, 
 
 "For I must go away ; 
 Whatever more you have to spend 
 
 When I come I will repay." 
 
 Now who of these was a friend in need, 
 
 And who was like his Lord, 
 Who kindly heals our many wounds 
 
 And tells us in His word 
 
 To raise the fallen, cheer the faint, 
 
 Do good to all you see, 
 For in doing for my little ones, 
 
 Ye did it unto me? 
 
Page 6 
 
 3 
 
 MOTHER'S PRAYER 
 
 SEEM to hear it even now, 
 
 Though many years have flown 
 Since with her children dear she knelt 
 In prayer before the Throne. 
 
 Our lives were pure as driftless snow, 
 So free from sin and care, 
 As at the close of day we knelt 
 To hear our mother's prayer. 
 
 So earnestly she sought to guide 
 Our youthful minds aright; 
 To point us to the narrow way 
 That leads to endless light. 
 
 Backward through the mists of years, 
 Marked deep by change and care, 
 There comes to us an echo sweet — 
 It is our mother's prayer. 
 
 They come to us in sorrow's hour ; 
 Or when in sweet repose, 
 Like dew upon the summer flower, 
 Or perfume of the rose. 
 
 When it is ours to cross the vale 
 And reach the city fair, 
 May an unbroken family greet 
 A mother's answered prayer. 
 
Page 7 
 
 A GREAT INVITATION TO A 
 GREAT SUPPER 
 
 & »> 
 
 I. 
 
 CERTAIN man made a great supper 
 And invited as his guests 
 His own chosen people 
 
 To share his very best. 
 The table was longer and broader 
 
 Than ever had been spread. 
 The appointments all were perfect 
 And God was at the head. 
 
 He had the guests invited. 
 
 II. 
 
 Far back in vanished centuries 
 
 This feast had been foretold, 
 And for it had been offered 
 
 The choicest of the fold. 
 The Lamb of God was slain, 
 
 That this feast might be spread ; 
 And unnumbered multitudes 
 
 Partake of the living bread. 
 Many were invited. 
 
 III. 
 
 The feast was now all ready 
 
 But where, where were the guests ? 
 Those who had been invited 
 
 Were serenely taking rest. 
 And then, began with one consent, 
 
 Excuses for to make. 
 Because of many worldly things, 
 
 They cannot of the feast partake, 
 Although they were invited. 
 
Page 8 
 
 IV. 
 
 The first excuse is a piece of land, 
 The same is made today; 
 "I must go to see what it is like," 
 
 And he is kept away. 
 "Five yoke of oxen must be proved;" 
 
 To stay away he wills 
 Forgetting, He who made the feast 
 Owns the cattle on a thousand hills. 
 "I have married a wife," another said, 
 Therefore I cannot come, 
 So I pray have me excused, 
 For I must stay at home. 
 Although I was invited. 
 
 V. 
 
 Now the feast is ready 
 
 The table has been spread; 
 I will have guests at My banquet, 
 
 Is what the Master said. 
 I gave many invitations 
 
 For there is room for all — 
 To feast at this royal table 
 
 If they will heed My call 
 
 And accept My invitation. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And none of those who were bidden 
 
 Shall of My supper taste, 
 They scorned My invitation 
 
 And made their life a waste — 
 And now I turn away from them 
 
 Unto the Gentile race, 
 And whosoever will, may come, 
 
 Find for himself a place. 
 Go out into the highways, 
 
 Compel them to come in — 
 And feast at My royal table. 
 
 I will cleanse them of all sin 
 
 For I have them invited. 
 
Page 9 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh ! The joy to be invited 
 
 To this banquet of His love 
 Spread upon the royal table 
 
 In the Father's house above. 
 Then accept His invitation 
 
 Answer to His call divine — 
 I will meet Him at His supper, 
 
 I can say, Dear Lord, I'm thine 
 For I have been invited. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And multitudes accepted 
 
 This invitation sweet, 
 And with the Blessed Master 
 
 About His table meet. 
 Excuses there are never heard, 
 
 They all with one accord 
 Feast on the Living Bread 
 
 In the Kingdom of their Lord. 
 
 They accepted the invitation. 
 
Page 10 
 
 IN MEMORY OF DOROTHY 
 
 sweet she looked in her casket, 
 
 A picture of perfect rest, 
 In robes so white and spotless 
 
 Like one among the blest. 
 
 She lay like a beautiful statue 
 Mid flowers of every hue, 
 
 Her little hands were clasping 
 Sweet violets so true 
 
 Her countenance, so peaceful, 
 
 Denoting perfect rest, 
 And flowers of rarest beauty 
 
 Upon the sinless breast. 
 
 And so your little darling, 
 The child that He had given, 
 
 Was taken from your earthly home 
 Up to the home in heaven. 
 
 And now among the angel band 
 Just hidden from your view, 
 
 So happy in that perfect land, 
 She waits to welcome you. 
 — To Dr. and Mrs. H. M. Grandle. 
 
3 
 
 Page 11 
 
 SOWING THE SEED 
 
 SOWED' the seed in faith and trust ; 
 
 The harvest I do not know; 
 The Master will care for the work I did, 
 As eternity will show. 
 
 I sowed the seed in toil and pain, 
 And my heart was sick with woe ; 
 But faith is bright, His word I trust 
 As along life's path I go. 
 
 I sowed the seed of truth divine, 
 In the heart all stained with sin ; 
 That life was won by His saving grace, 
 And the sin-stained heart was clean. 
 
 Thus let me sow till the harvest time 
 With its ripened sheaves appears; 
 With faith and trust in His cleansing power, 
 Let me work through all my years. 
 
 For when the sowing time is done 
 And the bending grain appears, 
 The angel reapers will gather in 
 The sheaves of the toilsome years. 
 
 WHERE BABY SLEEPS 
 
 WAY in the sunny Southland, 
 
 Where the pine's soft branches wave 
 And the flowers bloom in beauty, 
 There's a tiny little grave. 
 
 And the birds sing sweet in summer 
 Over the little lowly mound; 
 And the sighing winds of Autumn 
 Scatter fallen leaves around. 
 
 And round about that little grave 
 The angels vigil keeps — 
 For the grave in the sunny Southland, 
 Is where our darling Baby sleeps. 
 — To Mr. and Mrs. R. B. Davies. 
 
Page 12 
 
 Written for the Centennial (1803) of the 
 United Presbyterian "Tent Church," Rush 
 Creek, Fairfield County, Ohio. 
 
 HUNDRED years and more ago, 
 Our fathers, brave and true, 
 Took up the task of making here, 
 This lovely land we view. 
 
 They felled the trees and cleared the ground, 
 And built their humble homes, 
 Rejoicing in Almighty God, 
 From whom all blessing comes. 
 
 A place in which to worship Him — 
 On this their minds were bent; 
 They organized a loyal band, 
 And worshiped in a tent. 
 
 And then a house of logs was built, 
 Succeeded by a frame ; 
 The congregation grew apace, 
 And Beulah was its name. 
 
 And ministers came, one by one, 
 To preach and sing and pray ; 
 And by and by the house was built 
 In which we meet today. 
 
 And every tree within these grounds 
 Has memories most dear; 
 Of voices silenced, faces gone, 
 Once so familiar here. 
 
 Where are the ones who used to come 
 And worship in this church ? 
 To find where all have wandered, 
 The whole earth you might search. 
 
 While many rest beneath the sod, 
 In the cemetery close by, 
 Others sleep in distant lands, 
 Beneath the western sky. 
 
 And many loving thoughts today 
 Are concentrated here, 
 By living loved ones far away 
 Who hold this meeting dear. 
 
Page 13 
 
 The ones permitted here to meet, 
 What tribute can we pay 
 To those who organized this band 
 One hundred years ago today — 
 
 Who bore the heat and burden 
 For many a weary day, 
 But still so loyally upheld 
 Since they have passed away? 
 
 While we revere their memory, 
 And give their zeal full praise, 
 We will remember those who keep 
 This trust through later days. 
 
 God bless and keep you safely, 
 And ever may you see, 
 Within these sacred, hallowed walls 
 Peace and prosperity. 
 
 WE WONDER 
 
 E wonder what our baby's like 
 
 Up yonder in the sky, 
 For ere he gazed on earthly things 
 He went to dwell on high. 
 
 We wonder so who met him first 
 Within the City Fair 
 And what the waiting ones were like 
 Who welcomed him up there. 
 
 And did they bear him to the throne 
 With all his baby charms 
 And place the darling little form 
 Safe in the Saviour's arms? 
 
 We wonder what he's doing now 
 And why he had to go 
 And leave us mourning here 
 In this sad world below. 
 
 And so we wonder, watch and wait 
 Though oft our eyes grow dim 
 For he cannot return to us, 
 But we can go to him. 
 
 — For our Baby. 
 
Page 14 
 
 AND SO WE TELL HER NOW 
 
 * * 
 
 HERE'S one among our number 
 
 With calm and placid brow, 
 Whose face we love to look upon, 
 And so we tell her now. 
 
 The hair that once was glossy, 
 Like silver, now is white; 
 Just like the moonbeams falling 
 So silently at night. 
 
 Her mind is stored with knowledge, 
 We to her wisdom bow; 
 'Tis sweet with her to counsel, 
 And so we tell her now. 
 
 To her there has been given 
 The years allotted here; 
 To these have five been added, 
 Thus making her more dear. 
 
 Her life has been most useful, 
 The days have been well spent 
 And she has always kept in mind 
 That time is only lent. 
 
 And now, as near, and nearer grows 
 The Journey to the end, 
 We bring a token of our love 
 To greet this dear old friend. 
 
 For roses on a coffin laid, 
 No pleasure then can bring 
 To the one who is calmly resting 
 So silently within. 
 
 So we bring our pretty flowers, 
 And loving words of praise 
 For we rejoice together 
 At the lengthening of her days. 
 
 And when all our work is ended, 
 As before the throne we bow, 
 We all want to meet her there, 
 And so we tell her now. 
 
 (Written for the seventy-fifth birth- 
 day anniversary of Mrs. Jane Dickey.) 
 
Page 15 
 
 AN EASTER POEM 
 
 * .j. 
 
 , H bless and praise the Saviour 
 Who died for you and me; 
 Who hung in silent agony, 
 On the accursed tree. 
 
 That brow so pure and holy, 
 
 Must wear a thorny crown, 
 From pierced side and hands and feet 
 
 The life blood trickle down. 
 
 What agony He suffered there 
 
 From mob and cruel throng ; 
 And many said, "Now save thyself," 
 
 As they idly passed along. 
 
 The Father's face was turned away, 
 
 And in agony He cried, 
 Why hast thou forsaken me? 
 
 Thus Christ the Saviour died. 
 
 The sorrowing hearts were soon rejoiced, 
 
 For the risen Lord was near; 
 The resurrection morn had dawned, 
 
 And His presence banished fear. 
 
 And down the hills of time still shines 
 
 That glorious light today. 
 Through mist of years we catch the gleam 
 
 That brightens all the way. 
 
 Through Christ who died we all may live 
 
 Though earth and sun decay; 
 And be like Him and where He is, 
 
 On the resurrection day. 
 
 Oh, blessed hope of joys to come, 
 
 Though many years denied; 
 'Twill all be right, when we shall see 
 
 At last the One who died, 
 
 And rose again in triumph grand — 
 
 Redemption plan complete ; 
 And now in heaven at God's right hand, 
 
 His Faithful ones to greet. 
 
Page 16 
 
 THE HEAVENLY RECORD 
 
 AVE we daily tried to serve Him, 
 Be more like Him day by day ? 
 Have we nearer heaven grown, 
 In the years now passed away? 
 
 Every day has brought its trials, 
 Many crosses hard to bear; 
 But 'tis Christ himself who promised, 
 "I will all your burdens share." 
 
 Did we speak to friends as kindly, 
 Did we strive with all our might 
 To uplift some weary worn one 
 
 And help make their burdens light \ 
 
 f 
 Does the heavenly record witness, 
 As the old year fades from view, 
 There's a new name on its pages 
 Through the efforts made by you? 
 
 Have you grown weary, serving? 
 Listen to the voice divine : 
 "They who turn a soul to Jesus 
 In their crown a star shall shine." 
 
 Oh how sweet to know that Jesus, 
 The friend so good and true, 
 In the book of life keeps record 
 Of the deeds we daily do. 
 
 He knows best the many failures 
 That along our pathway lie, 
 But, blest thought, of all our efforts 
 There's a record kept on high. 
 
Uit&ex 
 
 Page 
 
 What Will Jesus Say? 1 
 
 The Graves On the Hill 2 
 
 Mothers' Day 3 
 
 A Friend In Need 5 
 
 Mother's Prayers 6 
 
 A Great Invitation to a Great Supper 7 
 
 In Memory of Dorothy 10 
 
 Sowing the Seed 11 
 
 Where Baby Sleeps 11 
 
 Centennial (1803) 12 
 
 We Wonder 13 
 
 And So, We Tell Her Now 14 
 
 An Easter Poem 15 
 
 The Heavenly Record 16 
 
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