Book of Amy Carmichael poems

I’ve mentioned Amy Carmichael several times. She, Isobel Kuhn, and Rosalind Goforth are my favorite female missionary writers from the past who have had the most influence on my own life.

In my copy of Amy’s biography, Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur, I have little pieces of paper sticking up to mark some of my favorite passages and poetry. Amy wrote a lot of poetry, some for the edification of “her children,” some as expressions of devotion and worship.  Many of Amy’s original books are now out of print. But one day when I was looking for something else on Amazon.com, I saw a book recommendation for a book called Mountain Breezes: The Collected Poems of Amy Carmichael. I was delighted to see that a group of editors have combed through Amy’s writings and collected 586 poems, them put them all together in this book. They are divided by basic categories and there is an index by title and first line in the back of the book. This is a treasure trove for anyone whose life has been touched by Amy Carmichael and anyone who loves Christian poetry.

Here are just a few of my favorites:

Thy John

As John upon his dear Lord’s breast,
So would I lean, so would I rest;
As empty shell in depths of sea,
So would I sink, be filled with Thee.

As water lily in her pool
Through long hot hours is still and cool,
A thought of peace, so I would be
Thy water-flower, Lord, close by Thee.

As singing bird in high, blue air,
So would I soar, and sing Thee there;
No rain nor stormy wind can be
When all the air is full of Thee.

I remember reading in one of her books how hot it was in India and how finding a spot of coolness somewhere was so very refreshing, and that came to mind as I read the second stanza.

This one is probably one of the most well-known:

Make Me Thy Fuel

From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee,
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when I should climb higher,
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
(Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the crucified)
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.

Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire;
Let me not sink to be a clod:
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God.

“Silken self” — probably my worst enemy.

This one has been the heart-cry of many a Christian mother:

For Our Children

Father, hear us, we are praying,
Hear the words our hearts are saying;
We are praying for our children.

Keep them from the powers of evil,
From the secret, hidden peril;
Father, hear us for our children.

From the whirlpool that would suck them,
From the treacherous quicksand, pluck them;
Father, hear us for our children.

From the wordling’s hollow gladness,
From the sting of faithless sadness,
Father, Father, keep our children.

Through life’s troubles waters steer them;
Through  life’s bitter battle cheer them;
Father, Father, be Thou near them.

Read the language of our longing,
Read the wordless pleadings thronging,
Holy Father, for our children.

     And wherever they may bide,
Lead them Home at eventide.