Treasures One by one He took them from me

In the Midst of Pain

Poems and Insights by Martha Snell Nicholson

Special Note from Mrs. Nicholson's Nephew

Margaret Snell Nicholson who was a woman who suffered from four incurable diseases. She struggled with pain more than thirty-five years, an invalid, bound to her bed. Her spirit was so transcendently triumphant through those many weary years, that she wrote some of the finest Christian poetry which has ever been written. Sadly most of her books are now out of print. Below are some of her more famous works describing spiritual lessons learned in the midst of pain:

She wrote of having empty hands held up to God:

Treasures

One by one He took them from me,
All the things I valued most,
Until I was empty-handed;
Every glittering toy was lost.

And I walked earth's highways, grieving.
In my rags and poverty.
Till I heard His voice inviting,
"Lift your empty hands to Me!"

So I held my hands toward heaven,
And He filled them with a store
Of His own transcendent riches,
Till they could contain no more.

And at last I comprehended
With my stupid mind and dull,
That God COULD not pour His riches
Into hands already full!

-Martha Snell Nicholson

A number of years before she died she wrote about her hope of the coming of the Lord:

The best part is the blessed hope of his soon coming. How I ever lived before I grasped that wonderful truth, I do not know. How anyone lives without it these trying days I cannot imagine. Each morning I think, with a leap of the heart, "He may come today." And each evening, "When I awake I may be in glory." Each day must be lived as though it were to be my last, and there is so much to be done to purify myself and to set my house in order. I am on tiptoe with expectancy. There are no more grey days -- for they're all touched with color; no more dark days -- for the radiance of His coming is on the horizon; no more dull days, with glory just around the corner; and no more lonely days, with His footsteps coming ever nearer, and the thought that soon, soon, I shall see His blessed face and be forever through with pain and tears is the joy that awaits.

That was written from a bed of pain and anguish. Yet, is it not significant that that very same person could write the following powerful expression of the desire she felt to purify herself in view of that transcendent event?

When I stand at the judgment seat of Christ
And He shows me His plan for me,
The Plan of my life as it might have been
Had He had His way, and I see

How I blocked Him here, and I checked Him there,
And I would not yield my will --
Will there be grief in my Savior's eyes,
Grief, though He loves me still?

He would have me rich, and I stand there poor,
Stripped of all but His grace,
While memory runs like a hunted thing
Down the paths I cannot retrace.

Then my desolate heart will well-nigh break
With the tears that I cannot shed;
I shall cover my face with my empty hands,
I shall bow my uncrowned head...

Lord of the years that are left to me,
I give them to Thy hand;
Take me and break me, mould me to
The pattern Thou hast planned!

She wrote of setting her house in order:

If Christ Should Come Tonight

Is my house set in order
if Christ should come today?
What tasks would be unfinished
if I were called away?

Suppose an angel told me
at early morning light,
"Your Lord will come this evening,
You shall go home tonight,"

Would ecstasy be clouded
by thought of work undone,
The seed I might have scattered,
The crown I might have won?

The soul I meant to speak to,
the purse I meant to share,
And oh the wasted moments
I meant to spend in prayer!

The weight of unsaved millions
would press upon my heart.
In their death am I certain
that I had not a part?

And such a few short moments
In which to set things right!
How feverishly I'd labor
Until the waning light!

O slothful soul and careless heart,
O eyes which have no sight, -
Work, lest you reap but vain regrets!
Your Lord "may" come home tonight!

In her book Heart Held High, Martha wrote of broken people when she said,

We are now His broken things. But remember how He has used broken things: the broken pitchers of Gideon's little army, the broken roof through which the paralyzed man was lowered to be healed, the broken alabaster box which shed its fragrance abroad and the broken body of our Savior.
Let us ask Him to take our broken hearts and to press upon them further suffering to give us a poignant realization of the suffering of the world. Let us ask Him to show us the endless, hopeless river of lost souls. This will break our hearts anew; but when it happens, God can use us at last.

The Voice of One Who Wept.

Today I heard the voice of one who wept
In far off lands
Because of sin and misery,
And begged with outstretched hands
For one small lamp to light his dark.
Now fain I would have slept,
So - stopped my ears, but in my heart
That sobbing voice still wept.
And then I heard the voice of one who
Counted not the cost,
But left His ivory palaces to seek and
Save the lost.
He said, "The sound of one who weeps
Is coming up to Me.
Dost thou forget that last command
Which I gave unto Thee,
To preach my Word to all the world?"
O, bitter be our shame!
Still hopeless millions walk the earth
Who never heard His Name,
And still the world spends lavishly
In every crowded mart,
And still the voice of Him who wept
Is sobbing in my heart!

Because

Because He is God He can touch the throne,
Because He is man He can understand;
Because He is God He can succour me,
Because He is Man He can hold my hand.
Because He took the form of flesh,
He knoweth my frame that I am weak;
Because He is God He can give to me,
Abundantly more than I ask or think.

by Martha Snell Nicholson

C. S. Lewis in the Problem of Pain put it this way:

God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains. (Pain) is God’s megaphone to rouse a deaf world.

Peter said that it is to our credit if, being aware of God, we endure pain. For it to have meaning, our suffering must bring us to God. Unless the pain leads us to that secret inner place where God is waiting to receive us, there is no good in it.

A song of faith dares to hope, like this one by Martha Snell Nicholson:

Guests

Pain knocked upon my door and said
That she had come to stay;
And though I would not welcome her
But bade her go away,

She entered in. Like my own shade
She followed after me,
And from her stabbing, stinging sword
No moment was I free.

And then one day another knocked
Most gently at my door.
I cried, "No, Pain is living here,
There is no room for more".

And then I heard His tender voice,
" 'Tis I, be not afraid".
And from the day He entered in --
The difference it made!

For though He did not bid her leave,
(My strange, unwelcome guest,)
He taught me how to live with her.
Oh, I had never guessed

That we could dwell so sweetly here,
My Lord and Pain and I,
Within this fragile house of clay
While years slip slowly by!

Pain comes, uninvited. We have no choice. But the healing Spirit of God can only enter if we are willing to let God in. God make us willing to open the door, for if we do not share our suffering with God, there is not good in it.

Dear Lord, as this new year is born
I give it to Thy hand,
Content to walk by faith what paths
I cannot understand.

Whatever coming days may bring
Of bitter loss, or gain,
Or every crown of happiness;
Should sorrow come, or pain,

Or, Lord, if all unknown to me
Thine angel hovers near
To bear me to that farther shore
Before another year,

It matters not my hand in Thine,
Thy light upon my face,
Thy boundless strength when I am week,
Thy love and saving grace!

I only ask, loose not my hand,
Grip fast my soul, and be
My guiding light upon the path
Till, blind no more, I see!

--Martha Snell Nicholson

On Prayer-

    Sometimes I do not even pray in words,
    I take my heart in my two hands
    And hold it up before the Lord,
    I'm so glad He understands.
    Sometimes I do not even pray in words,
    My spirit bows before His feet,
    And with His hand upon my head
    We just hold communion, silent, sweet.
    Sometimes I do not pray in words,
    For I am tired and long for rest,
    And my heart finds all it needs
    Just resting on the Savior's gentle breast.

Pain

Does your bitter load of grief, tears and pain,
Seem too great for you to bear?
Don't complain. You are only being made fit to reign;
Fit to reign, with Christ our Lord.

Surely we are all unfit, all untaught;
And if wise and lively lore, knowing naught,
All the gold of Uphoe could not have bought,
Private lessons from a King.

Precious pain to teach His child, used of God,
Taught by very God Himself, and we complain.

-- Martha Snell Nicholson

Salvation

If any man could save himself,
Then why did Jesus die?
The Son of God nailed to a cross,

Against a darkened sky!
Two things alone could take Him there,
Desperate necessity,

And love which chose this only way,
Of saving you and me!

--Martha Snell Nicholson

Eternity

I stood with God on the edge of the world,

and my hand was in His hand.

I looked down the road of the past,

as it stretched away in the dim distance,

till it was shrouded in the mists of time.

And I knew it had no beginning,

and a little chill wind of fear blew about my head.

God asked, "Are you afraid?"

And I said, "Yes, because I cannot understand how there

can be no beginning."

So God said, "Let us turn and face the other way."

And I looked into glory,

and my heart rejoiced with joy unspeakable.

And then my mind went ahead, a billion, billion years,

and I knew there would be no end,

and again that little chill wind of fear began to blow.

And God asked me again, "Are you afraid?"

And I answered, "A little, because I cannot

understand how there can be no end."

So God asked me tenderly,

"Are you afraid now, today, with your hand in Mine?"

And I looked up at Him and smiled and replied,

"O my Father, No!"

And God said,

"Every day in eternity will be today."

-- Martha Snell Nicholson

Trusting

You ask how you learn to trust Him? Dear child, you must just let go!

Let go of your frantic worry, And the fears which plague you so;

Let go of each black tomorrow Which you try to live today;

Let go of your fevered planning, He knoweth all your way.

Fear not lest your slipping fingers Let go of your Savior too,-

Trusting is only knowing He’ll not let go of you!

-- Martha Snell Nicholson