AFTER FIVE YEARS of struggling, at last victory seemed won. In the fall of 1896, while living with Nettie in Davenport, at the age of twenty-two Martha Wing “received the witness of the Spirit.”
“Lightly on wings of Heavenly Love
I swept, nothing doubting, to far heights above;
Holding my Saviour’s all-strengthening Hand
Just within sight of the fair Promised Land,
Just one more step to the long-looked-for goal
Where one’s heart is all God’s, and all His one’s soul.”
Now she had peace and joy and spiritual strength, at least, with which to endure her physical ills. In the midst of her afflictions she could write in December (1896) this poem which expressed her faith:
When the dark clouds of care gather o’er me
And the path seems too rough for my feet,
There comes, like rare music, to cheer me
A promise most wonderfully sweet.
I know whatsoever betide me,
“The Lord is a Refuge for me.
I’ll cast all my burdens upon Him;
My strength He has promised to be.
Sometimes, when I feel like repining,
My pathway hidden in gloom,
My skies overclouded with sorrows,
Flowers of faith forgotten to bloom,
When all of Nature’s great organ
Seems jarring in dreary discord,
Like a note of pure music from Heaven
Comes “Your Refuge and Strength is the Lord.”
There are times when the path is so netted
With thickets of thorns that oppose,
That I almost despair of an opening
‘Til I remember that God always knows
Every branch, every bramble and brier,
And for faith He will give me His power
To discern the weak points of the thicket;
Yea! the Lord is my Strength and my Tower.
Be the pathway thorny and stony,
Be it low in the valley of woe,
Be it up the mountain’s steep side way
Where heart almost fails as I go,
I know that ‘tis His strength that will aid me,
That His Hand will ne’er let me fall;
He’ll ne’er lead where I cannot follow;
He knows the temptations of all.
Oh, why should I ever forget it?
Why should I ever know fear?
Why should earth’s sounds clash so loudly
That I should e’er fail to hear
The voice of my Lord and my Saviour
Speaking so gently to me,
Saying, “I am thy Rock and thy Tower;”
Saying, “I’ll be a Refuge for thee.”
And two months later, February, 1897, Martha penned this sincere desire, entitled, “A Prayer”:
My Father, keep me
Day by day;
Guide Thou my footsteps
All the way.
Keep me unspotted,
Free from sin,
Loyal without
And pure within.
Help me Thy purpose
To fulfill;
Give me desire
To do Thy will.
Help me to make
My light so shine
That all may know
Thy power divine.
Make Thy dear love
So show through me
That men may gladly
Turn to Thee;
That naught I do
Or naught I say
May turn from Thee
Dear souls away.
And oh, I ask
That those I love
May find a Home
With me above,
That in that Heaven
Beyond the tomb
Thou wilt, dear Lord,
Prepare them room.
My Lord, I ask it
In the name
Of Christ, Thy Son,
Who gladly came
From Heaven’s glory
To earth’s dark night
To lead lost sinners
To the light. —Amen.
What better prayer could anyone pray? Could any desires be higher or holier? Surely all was now well with Martha Wing’s soul. Truthfully she could sing that now she was:
“Close to my Saviour, so close I could hear
His whisper of Love, ‘My child, have no fear;
Yield all that thou hast, yield freely to Me
Thy life and thy love, Mine ever to be.
I’ll shelter thee close in Mine Omnipotent Arms
Where storms cannot hurt, and sin ne’er alarms.’”
Here was the old, familiar call to “total self-surrender”!
What would she do with it this time? Never before had she known such joy in the Lord. Surely His will must be sweet. But she records:
“I paused, and the light of His face grew less bright;
‘Dear Jesus,’ I faltered, ‘I know it is right
That Thou shouldst have all; and all I give Thee,
Save one little thing. ‘Tis so precious to me,
I have loved it so long, this thing must be mine;
0, say me not nay, for all else is Thine.’”
“One little thing!” Really it was not “little” anymore, for her ambition to be a writer had grown so that now it was the one consuming passion of her life.