Poems/Martha Snell Nicholson

Martha Snell Nicholson

Martha Snell Nicholson (1886-1951) 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.

Find a small collection of her work here:

• http://www.homemakerscorner.com/MSN-Martha-Snell-Nicholson-poetry.html

See also: Poems/Amy Carmichael

• Martha Snell Nicholson, like Amy Carmichael, lived in the first half of the twentieth century. One spent most of her adult life as an invalid bound to her bed, suffering from chronic pain due to various medical conditions.
• The other, Amy Carmichael, went first as a missionary to Japan, and then to South India where she was able to rescue little children abandoned by their parents to a life of temple prostitution. The last twenty years of her life were spent confined to bed after a fall and devastating injury.

His Plan for Me

by Martha Snell Nicholson

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 Saviour’s eyes,
Grief though He loves me still?

He would have me rich, and I stand here 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 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.

Treasures

by Martha Snell Nicholson

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!

The Thorn

by Martha Snell Nicholson

I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne
And begged him for one priceless gift, which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart
I cried, “But Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart.
This is a strange, a hurtful gift, which Thou hast given me.”
He said, “My child, I give good gifts and gave My best to thee.”
I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.

Eternity

by Martha Snell Nicholson

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.”