Unto Myself, my dear child, I would bring thee! Who like Myself thy sure solace can be? Who can reach down, down so deeply within thee? Give to thy heart such a full sympathy? Mournest thou sore that thy loved ones have failed thee? Failed, sadly failed thy true comfort to be? "Why did they fail" dost thou ask? Let Me whisper - "That thou should'st find thy heart's comfort in Me." Unto Myself, Ah, no not unto others, Dearest, or sweetest, or fairest, or best; Only in Me lieth unchanging solace; Only in Me is thy promise of rest! Child of My love, to Myself I would bring thee! Not to some PLACE of most heavenly bliss; Places, like people, may all disappoint thee, Till thou hast learned to drink higher than this. Unto Myself, my dear child, I would bring thee! None like Myself thy full portion can be! While, in my heart, there is hunger and longing That I might find choicest t...