These words, penned by Amy Carmichael,  are a beautiful expression of faith in God in the midst of unexpected collapse during the course of service to the Master.

You can read about Amy here.  Amy was a missionary in India who opened an orphanage in Dohnavur.

As I read her poem and reflect on her life, I thank God for the service that this saint rendered to the body of Christ.  Despite her remarkable role in the kingdom, I believe that Amy’s poetry reflects a depth of understanding that only the interruption of her ministry could produce. It is not what we do for Christ, rather it is Christ himself who defines us.

In this regard, let us follow the example that this beautiful heroine of the faith has left us.

Will not the End explain
The crossed endeavor, earnest purpose foiled,
The strange bewilderment of good work spoiled,
The clinging weariness, the inward strain;
Will not the End explain?

Meanwhile He comforteth
Them that are losing patience; ’tis His way.
But none can write the words they hear Him say,
For men to read; only they know He saith
Kind words, and comforteth.

Not that He doth explain.
The mystery that baffleth; but a sense
Husheth the quiet heart, that far, far hence
Lieth a field set thick with golden grain,
Wetted in seedling days by many a rain;
The End – it will explain.

– Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur