“The ransomed of the Lord.”
Thy lovely saints do bring Thee love,
Incense and joy and gold;
Fair star with star, fair dove with dove,
Beloved by Thee of old.
I, Master, neither star nor dove,
Have brought Thee sins and tears;
Yet I too bring a little love
Amid my flaws and fears.
A trembling love that faints and fails
Yet still is love of Thee,
A wondering love that hopes and hails
Thy boundless Love of me;
Love kindling faith and pure desire,
Love following on to bliss,
A spark, O Jesu, from Thy fire,
A drop from Thine abyss.
Lord, we are rivers running to Thy sea,
Our waves and ripples all derived from Thee:
A nothing we should have, a nothing be,
Except for Thee.
Sweet are the waters of Thy shoreless sea,
Make sweet our waters that make haste to Thee;
Pour in Thy sweetness, that ourselves may be
Sweetness to Thee.
“In exceeding bitter cry.”
Contempt and pangs and haunting fears—
Too late for hope, too late for ease,
Too late for rising from the dead;
Too late, too late to bend my knees,
Or bow my head,
Or weep, or ask for tears.
Hark!...One I hear Who calls to me:
“Give Me thy thorn and grief and scorn,
Give Me thy ruin and regret.
Press on thro’ darkness toward the morn:
One loves thee yet:
Have I forgotten thee?”
Lord, Who art Thou? Lord, is it Thou
My Lord and God Lord Jesus Christ?
How said I that I sat alone
And desolate and unsufficed?
Surely a stone
Would raise Thy praises now!
O Lord, when Thou didst call me, didst Thou know
My heart disheartened thro’ and thro’,
Still hankering after Egypt full in view
Where cucumbers and melons grow?
—“Yea, I knew.”—
But, Lord, when Thou didst choose me, didst Thou know
How marred I was and withered too,
Nor rose for sweetness nor for virtue rue,
Timid and rash, hasty and slow?
—“Yea, I knew.”—
My Lord, when Thou didst love me, didst Thou know
How weak my efforts were, how few,
Tepid to love and impotent to do,
Envious to reap while slack to sow?
—“Yea, I knew.”—
Good Lord, Who knowest what I cannot know
And dare not know, my false, my true,
My new, my old; Good Lord, arise and do
If loving Thou hast known me so.
—“Yea, I knew.”—
“Thou, God, seest me.”
Ah me, that I should be
Exposed and open evermore to Thee!—
“Nay, shrink not from My light,
And I will make thee glorious in My sight
With the overcoming Shulamite.”—
Yea, Lord, Thou moulding me.
...Without a hiding-place
To hide me from the terrors of Thy Face.—
“Thy hiding-place is here
In Mine own heart, wherefore the Roman spear
For thy sake I accounted dear.”—
My Jesus! King of Grace.
...Without a veil, to give
Whiteness before Thy Face that I might live.—
“Am I too poor to dress
Thee in My royal robe of righteousness?
Challenge and prove My Love’s excess.”—
Give, Lord, I will receive.
...Without a pool wherein
To wash my piteous self and make me clean.—
“My Blood hath washed away
Thy guilt, and still I wash thee day by day:
Only take heed to trust and pray.”—
Lord, help me to begin.
Lord Jesus, who would think that I am Thine?
Ah, who would think
Who sees me ready to turn back or sink,
That Thou art mine?
I cannot hold Thee fast tho’ Thou art mine:
Hold Thou me fast,
So earth shall know at last and heaven at last
That I am Thine.
“The Name of Jesus.”
Jesus, Lord God from all eternity,
Whom love of us brought down to shame,
I plead Thy Life with Thee,
I plead Thy Death, I plead Thy Name.
Jesus, Lord God of every living soul,
Thy Love exceeds its uttered fame,
Thy Will can make us whole,
I plead Thyself, I plead Thy Name.
Lord God of Hosts, most Holy and most High,
What made Thee tell Thy Name of Love to me?
What made Thee live our life? what made Thee die?
“My love of thee.”
I pitched so low, Thou so exceeding high,
What was it made Thee stoop to look at me
While flawless sons of God stood wondering by?
“My love of thee.”
What is there which can lift me up on high
That we may dwell together, Thou with me,
When sin and death and suffering are gone by?
“My love of thee.”
O Lord, what is that best thing hid on high
Which makes heaven heaven as Thou hast promised me,
Yea, makes it Christ to live and gain to die?
“My love of thee.”
Lord, what have I that I may offer Thee?
Look, Lord, I pray Thee, and see.—
What is it thou hast got?
Nay, child, what is it thou hast not?
Thou hast all gifts that I have given to thee:
Offer them all to Me,
The great ones and the small,
I will accept them one and all.—
I have a will, good Lord, but it is marred;
A heart both crushed and hard;
Not such as these the gift
Clean-handed lovely saints uplift.—
Nay, child, but wilt thou judge for Me?
I crave not thine, but thee.—
Ah, Lord, Who lovest me!
Such as I have now give I Thee.
If I should say “my heart is in my home,”
I turn away from that high halidom
Where Jesus sits: for nowhere else
But with its treasure dwells
The heart: this Truth and this experience tells.
If I should say “my heart is in a grave,”
I turn away from Jesus risen to save:
I slight that death He died for me;
I, too, deny to see
His beauty and desirability.
O Lord, Whose Heart is deeper than my heart,
Draw mine to Thine to worship where Thou art;
For Thine own glory join the twain
Never to part again,
Nor to have lived nor to have died in vain.
Leaf from leaf Christ knows;
Himself the Lily and the Rose:
Sheep from sheep Christ tells;
Himself the Shepherd, no one else:
Star and star He names,
Himself outblazing all their flames:
Dove by dove, He calls
To set each on the golden walls;
Drop by drop, He counts
The flood of ocean as it mounts:
Grain by grain, His hand
Numbers the innumerable sand.
Lord, I lift to Thee
In peace what is and what shall be;
Lord, in peace I trust
To Thee all spirits and all dust.
Lord, carry me.—Nay, but I grant thee strength
To walk and work thy way to Heaven at length.—
Lord, why then am I weak?—Because I give
Power to the weak, and bid the dying live.—
Lord, I am tired.—He hath not much desired
The goal, who at the starting-point is tired.—
Lord, dost Thou know?—I know what is in man;
What the flesh can, and what the spirit can.—
Lord, dost Thou care?—Yea, for thy gain or loss
So much I cared, it brought Me to the Cross.—
Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.—
Good is the word; but rise, for life is brief.
The follower is not greater than the Chief:
Follow thou Me along My way of grief.
Lord, I am here.—But, child, I look for thee
Elsewhere and nearer Me.—
Lord, that way moans a wide insatiate sea:
How can I come to Thee?—
Set foot upon the water, test and see
If thou canst come to Me.—
Couldst Thou not send a boat to carry me,
Or dolphin swimming free?—
Nay, boat nor fish if thy will faileth thee:
For My Will too is free.—
Lord, I am afraid.—Take hold on Me:
I am stronger than the sea.—
Save, Lord, I perish.—I have hold of thee,
I made and rule the sea,
I bring thee to the haven where thou wouldst be.
New creatures; the Creator still the Same
For ever and for ever: therefore we
Win hope from God’s unsearchable decree
And glorify His still unchanging Name.
We too are still the same: and still our claim,
Our trust, our stay, is Jesus, none but He:
He still the Same regards us, and still we
Mount toward Him in old love’s accustomed flame.
We know Thy wounded Hands: and Thou dost know
Our praying hands, our hands that clasp and cling
To hold Thee fast and not to let Thee go.
All else be new then, Lord, as Thou hast said:
Since it is Thou, we dare not be afraid,
Our King of old and still our Self-same King.
“Kings of Kings and Lord of Lords.”
Is this that Name as ointment poured forth
For which the virgins love Thee; King of kings
And Lord of lords? All Seraphs clad in wings;
All Cherubs and all Wheels which south and north,
Which east and west turn not in going forth;
All many-semblanced ordered Spirits, as rings
Of rainbow in unwonted fashionings,
Might answer, Yes. But we from south and north,
From east and west, a feeble folk who came
By desert ways in quest of land unseen,
A promised land of pasture ever green
And ever springing ever singing wave,
Know best Thy Name of Jesus: Blessed Name,
Man’s life and resurrection from the grave.
Thy Name, O Christ, as incense streaming forth
Sweetens our names before God’s Holy Face;
Luring us from the south and from the north
Unto the sacred place.
In Thee God’s promise is Amen and Yea.
What art Thou to us? Prize of every lot,
Shepherd and Door, our Life and Truth and Way:—
Nay, Lord, what art Thou not?
“The Good Shepherd.”
O Shepherd with the bleeding Feet,
Good Shepherd with the pleading Voice,
What seekest Thou from hill to hill?
Sweet were the valley pastures, sweet
The sound of flocks that bleat their joys,
And eat and drink at will.
Is one worth seeking, when Thou hast of Thine
Ninety and nine?—
How should I stay my bleeding Feet,
How should I hush my pleading Voice?
I Who chose death and clomb a hill,
Accounting gall and wormwood sweet,
That hundredfold might bud My joys
For love’s sake and good will.
I seek My one, for all there bide of Mine
Ninety and nine.
“Rejoice with me.”
Little Lamb, who lost thee?—
I myself, none other.—
Little Lamb, who found thee?—
Jesus, Shepherd, Brother.
Ah, Lord, what I cost Thee!
Canst Thou still desire?—
Still Mine arms surround thee,
Still I lift thee higher,
Draw thee nigher.
Shall not the judge of all the earth do right?
Yea, Lord, altho’ Thou say me nay:
Shall not His Will be to me life and light?
Yea, Lord, altho’ Thou slay.
Yet, Lord, remembering turn and sift and see,
Remember tho’ Thou sift me thro’,
Remember my desire, remember me,
Remember, Lord, and do.
Me and my gift: kind Lord, behold,
Be not extreme to test or sift;
Thy Love can turn to fire and gold
Me and my gift.
Myself and mine to Thee I lift:
Gather us to Thee from the cold
Dead outer world where dead things drift.
If much were mine, then manifold
Should be the offering of my thrift:
I am but poor, yet love makes bold
Me and my gift.
“He cannot deny Himself.”
Love still is Love, and doeth all things well,
Whether He show me heaven or hell
Or earth in her decay
Passing away
On a day.
Love still is Love, tho’ He should say, “Depart,”
And break my incorrigible heart,
And set me out of sight
Widowed of light
In the night.
Love still is Love, is Love, if He should say,
“Come,” on that uttermost dread day;
“Come,” unto very me,
“Come where I be,
Come and see.”
Love still is Love, whatever comes to pass:
O Only Love, make me Thy glass,
Thy pleasure to fulfil
By loving still
Come what will.
“Stain from the foundation of the world.”
Slain for man, slain for me, O Lamb of God, look down;
Loving to the end look down, behold and see:
Turn Thine Eyes of pity, turn not on us Thy frown,
O Lamb of God, slain for man, slain for me.
Mark the wrestling, mark the race for indeed a crown;
Mark our chariots how we drive them heavily;
Mark the foe upon our track blasting thundering down,
O Lamb of God, slain for man, slain for me.
Set as a Cloudy Pillar against them Thy frown,
Thy Face of Light toward us gracious utterly;
Help granting, hope granting, until Thou grant a crown,
O Lamb of God, slain for man, slain for me.
Lord Jesu, Thou art sweetness to my soul:
I to myself am bitterness:
Regard my fainting struggle toward the goal,
Regard my manifold distress,
O Sweet Jesu.
Thou art Thyself my goal, O Lord my King:
Stretch forth Thy hand to save my soul:
What matters more or less of journeying?
While I touch Thee I touch my goal,
O Sweet Jesu.
I, Lord, Thy foolish sinner low and small,
Lack all.
His heart too high was set
Who asked, What lack I yet?
Woe’s me at my most woeful pass!
I, Lord, who scarcely dare adore,
Weep sore:
Steeped in this rotten world I fear to rot.
Alas! what lack I not?
Alas! alas for me I alas
More and yet more!—
Nay, stand up on thy feet, betaking thee
To Me.
Bring fear; but much more bring
Hope to thy patient King:
What, is My pleasure in thy death?
I loved that youth who little knew
The true
Width of his want, yet worshipped with goodwill:
So love I thee, and still
Prolong thy day of grace and breath.
Rise up and do.—
Lord, let me know mine end, and certify
When I
Shall die and have to stand
Helpless on Either Hand,
Cut off, cut off, my day of grace.—
Not so: for what is that to thee?
I see
The measure and the number of thy day:
Keep patience, tho’ I slay;
Keep patience till thou see My Face.
Follow thou Me.
“Because He first loved us.”
I was hungry, and Thou feddest me;
Yea, Thou gavest drink to slake my thirst:
O Lord, what love gift can I offer Thee
Who hast loved me first?—
Feed My hungry brethren for My sake;
Give them drink, for love of them and Me:
Love them as I loved thee, when Bread I brake
In pure love of thee.—
Yea, Lord, I will serve them by Thy grace;
Love Thee, seek Thee, in them; wait and pray:
Yet would I love Thyself, Lord, face to face,
Heart to heart, one day.—
Let today fulfil its daily task,
Fill thy heart and hand to them and Me:
Tomorrow thou shalt ask, and shalt not ask
Half I keep for thee.
Lord, hast Thou so loved us, and will not we
Love Thee with heart and mind and strength and soul,
Desiring Thee beyond our glorious goal,
Beyond the heaven of heavens desiring Thee?
Each saint, all saints cry out: Yea me, yea me,
Thou hast desired beyond an aureole,
Beyond Thy many Crowns, beyond the whole
Ninety and nine unwandering family.
Souls in green pastures of the watered land,
Faint pilgrim souls wayfaring thro the sand,
Abide with Thee and in Thee are at rest:
Yet evermore, kind Lord, renew Thy quest
After new wanderers; such as once Thy Hand
Gathered, Thy Shoulders bore, Thy Heart caressed.
As the dove which found no rest
For the sole of her foot, flew back
To the ark her only nest
And found safety there;
Because Noah put forth his hand,
Drew her in from ruin and wrack,
And was more to her than the land
And the air:
So my spirit, like that dove,
Fleeth away to an ark
Where dwelleth a Heart of Love,
A Hand pierced to save,
Tho’ the sun and the moon should fail,
Tho’ the stars drop into the dark,
And my body lay itself pale
In a grave.
“Thou art fairer than the children of men.”
A rose, a lily, and the Face of Christ
Have all our hearts sufficed:
For He is Rose of Sharon nobly born,
Our Rose without a thorn;
And He is Lily of the Valley, He
Most sweet in purity.
But when we come to name Him as He is,
Godhead, Perfection, Bliss,
All tongues fall silent, while pure hearts alone
Complete their orison.
“As the Apple Tree among the trees of the wood.”
As one red rose in a garden where all other roses are white
Blossoms alone in its glory, crowned all alone
In a solitude of own sweetness and fragrance of own delight,
With loveliness not another’s and thorns its own;
As one ruddy sun amid million orbs comely and colourless,
Among all others, above all others is known;
As it were alone in the garden, alone in the heavenly place,
Chief and centre of all, in fellowship yet alone.
None other Lamb, none other Name,
None other Hope in heaven or earth or sea,
None other Hiding-place from guilt and shame,
None beside Thee.
My faith burns low, my hope burns low,
Only my heart’s desire cries out in me
By the deep thunder of its want and woe,
Cries out to Thee.
Lord, Thou art Life tho’ I be dead,
Love’s Fire Thou art however cold I be:
Nor heaven have I, nor place to lay my head,
Nor home, but Thee.
“Thy friend and thy Father’s friend forget not.”
Friends, I commend to you the narrow way:
Not because I, please God, will walk therein,
But rather for the Love Feast of that day,
The exceeding prize which whoso will may win.
Earth is half spent and rotting at the core,
Here hollow death’s heads mock us with a grin,
Here heartiest laughter leaves us tired and sore.
Men heap up pleasures and enlarge desire,
Outlive desire, and famished evermore
Consume themselves within the undying fire.
Yet not for this God made us: not for this
Christ sought us far and near to draw us nigher,
Sought us and found and paid our penalties.
If one could answer “Nay” to God’s command,
Who shall say “Nay” when Christ pleads all He is
For us, and holds us with a wounded Hand?
“Surely The bath borne our griefs.”
Christ’s Heart was wrung for me, if mine is sore;
And if my feet are weary, His have bled;
He had no place wherein to lay His Head;
If I am burdened, He was burdened more.
The cup I drink, He drank of long before;
He felt the unuttered anguish which I dread;
He hungered Who the hungry thousands fed,
And thirsted Who the world’s refreshment bore.
If grief be such a looking-glass as shows
Christ’s Face and man’s in some sort made alike,
Then grief is pleasure with a subtle taste:
Wherefore should any fret or faint or haste?
Grief is not grievous to a soul that knows
Christ comes,—and listens for that hour to strike.
“They toil not, neither do they spin.”
Clother of the lily, Feeder of the sparrow,
Father of the fatherless, dear Lord,
Tho’ Thou set me as a mark against Thine arrow,
As a prey unto Thy sword,
As a ploughed up field beneath Thy harrow,
As a captive in Thy cord, [narrow]
Let that cord be love; and someday make my
Hallowed bed according to Thy Word. Amen.
Darkness and light are both alike to Thee:
Therefore to Thee I lift my darkened face;
Upward I look with eyes that fail to see,
Athirst for future light and present grace.
I trust the Hand of Love I scarcely trace.
With breath that fails I cry, Remember me:
Add breath to breath, so I may run my race
That where Thou art there may Thy servant be.
For Thou art gulf and fountain of my love,
I unreturning torrent to Thy sea,
Yea, Thou the measureless ocean for my rill:
Seeking I find, and finding seek Thee still:
And oh! that I had wings as hath a dove,
Then would I flee away to rest with Thee.
“And now why tarriest thou?”
Lord, grant us grace to mount by steps of grace
From grace to grace nearer, my God, to Thee;
Not tarrying for tomorrow,
Lest we lie down in sorrow
And never see
Unveiled Thy Face.
Life is a vapour vanishing in haste;
Life is a day whose sun grows pale to set;
Life is a stint and sorrow,
One day and not the morrow;
Precious, while yet
It runs to waste.
Lord, strengthen us; lest fainting by the way
We come not to Thee, we who come from far;
Lord, bring us to that morrow
Which makes an end of sorrow,
Where all saints are
On holyday.
Where all the saints rest who have heard Thy call,
Have risen and striven and now rejoice in rest:
Call us too home from sorrow
To rest in Thee tomorrow;
In Thee our Best,
In Thee our All.
Have I not striven, my God, and watched and prayed?
Have I not wrestled in mine agony?
Wherefore still turn Thy Face of Grace from me?
Is Thine Arm shortened that Thou canst not aid?
Thy silence breaks my heart: speak tho’ to upbraid,
For Thy rebuke yet bids us follow Thee.
I grope and grasp not; gaze, but cannot see.
When out of sight and reach my bed is made,
And piteous men and women cease to blame
Whispering and wistful of my gain or loss;
Thou Who for my sake once didst feel the Cross,
Lord, wilt Thou turn and look upon me then,
And in Thy Glory bring to nought my shame,
Confessing me to angels and to men?
“God is our Hope and Strength.”
Tempest and terror below; but Christ the
Almighty above.
Tho the depth of the deep overflow, tho’ fire
run along on the ground,
Tho’ all billows and flames make a noise,—and
where is an Ark for the dove?—
Tho’ sorrows rejoice against joys, and death
and destruction abound:
Yet Jesus abolisheth death, and Jesus Who loves
us we love;
His dead are renewed with a breath, His lost
are the sought and the found.
Thy wanderers call and recall, Thy dead men
lift out of the ground;
O Jesus, Who lovest us all, stoop low from
Thy Glory above:
Where sin hath abounded make grace to abound
and to superabound,
Till we gaze on Thee face unto Face, and respond
to Thee love unto Love.
Day and night the Accuser makes no pause,
Day and night protest the Righteous Laws,
Good and Evil witness to man’s flaws;
Man the culprit, man’s the ruined cause,
Man midway to death’s devouring jaws
And the worm that gnaws.
Day and night our Jesus makes no pause,
Pleads His own fulfilment of all laws,
Veils with His Perfections mortal flaws,
Clears the culprit, pleads the desperate cause,
Plucks the dead from death’s devouring jaws
And the worm that gnaws.
O mine enemy
Rejoice not over me!
Jesus waiteth to be gracious:
I will yet arise,
Mounting free and far,
Past sun and star,
To a house prepared and spacious
In the skies.
Lord, for Thine own sake
Kindle my heart and break;
Make mine anguish efficacious
Wedded to Thine own:
Be not Thy dear pain,
Thy Love in vain,
Thou Who waitest to be gracious
On Thy Throne.
Lord, dost Thou look on me, and will not I
Launch out my heart to Heaven to look on Thee?
Here if one loved me I should turn to see,
And often think on him and often sigh,
And by a tender friendship make reply
To love gratuitous poured forth on me,
And nurse a hope of happy days to be,
And mean “until we meet” in each good-bye.
Lord, Thou dost look and love is in Thine Eyes,
Thy heart is set upon me day and night,
Thou stoopest low to set me far above:
O Lord, that I may love Thee make me wise;
That I may see and love Thee grant me sight;
And give me love that I may give Thee love.
“Peace I leave with you.”
Tumult and turmoil, trouble and toil,
Yet peace withal in a painful heart;
Never a grudge and never a broil,
And ever the better part.
O my King and my heart’s own choice,
Stretch Thy Hand to Thy fluttering dove;
Teach me, call to me with Thy Voice,
Wrap me up in Thy Love.
O Christ our All in each, our All in all!
Others have this or that, a love, a friend,
A trusted teacher, a long worked for end:
But what to me were Peter or were Paul
Without Thee? fame or friend if such might be?
Thee wholly will I love, Thee wholly seek,
Follow Thy foot-track, hearken for Thy call.
O Christ mine All in all, my flesh is weak,
A trembling fawning tyrant unto me:
Turn, look upon me, let me hear Thee speak:
Tho’ bitter billows of Thine utmost sea
Swathe me, and darkness build around its wall,
Yet will I rise, Thou lifting when I fall,
And if Thou hold me fast, yet cleave to Thee.
Because Thy Love hath sought me,
All mine is Thine and Thine is mine:
Because Thy Blood hath bought me,
I will not be mine own but Thine.
I lift my heart to Thy Heart,
Thy Heart sole resting-place for mine:
Shall Thy Heart crave for my heart,
And shall not mine crave back for Thine?
Thy fainting spouse, yet still Thy spouse;
Thy trembling dove, yet still Thy dove;
Thine own by mutual vows,
By mutual love.
Recall Thy vows, if not her vows;
Recall Thy Love, if not her love:
For weak she is, Thy spouse,
And tired, Thy dove.
“Life as the hart desireth the water brooks.”
My heart is yearning:
Behold my yearning heart,
And lean low to satisfy
Its lonely beseeching cry,
For Thou its fulness art.
Turn, as once turning
Thou didst behold Thy Saint
In deadly extremity;
Didst look, and win back to Thee
His will frighted and faint.
Kindle my burning
From Thine unkindled Fire;
Fill me with gifts and with grace
That I may behold Thy Face,
For Thee I desire.
My heart is yearning,
Yearning and thrilling thro’
For Thy Love mine own of old,
For Thy Love unknown, untold,
Ever old, ever new.
“That where I am, there ye may be also.”
How know I that it looms lovely that land I have never seen,
With morning-glories and heartsease and unexampled green,
With neither heat nor cold in the balm-redolent air?
Some of this, not all, I know; but this is so;
Christ is there.
How know I that blessedness befalls who dwell in Paradise,
The outwearied hearts refreshing, rekindling the worn-out eyes,
All souls singing, seeing, rejoicing everywhere?
Nay, much more than this I know; for this is so;
Christ is there.
O Lord Christ, Whom having not seen I love and desire to love,
O Lord Christ, Who lookest on me uncomely yet still Thy dove,
Take me to Thee in Paradise, Thine own made fair;
For whatever else I know, this thing is so;
Thou art there.
“Judge not according to the appearance.”
Lord, purge our eyes to see
Within the seed a tree,
Within the glowing egg a bird,
Within the shroud a butterfly:
Till taught by such, we see
Beyond all creatures Thee,
And hearken for Thy tender word,
And hear it, “Fear not: it is I.”
My God, wilt Thou accept, and will not we
Give aught to Thee?
The kept we lose, the offered we retain
Or find again.
Yet if our gift were lost, we well might lose
All for Thy use:
Well lost for Thee, Whose love is all for us
Gratuitous.
A chill blank world. Yet over the utmost sea
The light of a coming dawn is rising to me,
No more than a paler shade of darkness as yet;
While I lift my heart, O Lord, my heart unto Thee
Who hast not forgotten me, yea, Who wilt not forget.
Forget not Thy sorrowful servant, O Lord my God,
Weak as I cry, faint as I cry underneath Thy rod,
Soon to lie dumb before Thee a body devoid of breath,
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, a sod to the sod:
Forget not my life, O my Lord, forget not my death.
“The Chiefest among ten thousand.”
O Jesu, better than Thy gifts
Art Thou Thine only Self to us!
Palm branch its triumph, harp uplifts
Its triumph-note melodious:
But what are such to such as we?
O Jesu, better than Thy saints
Art Thou Thine only Self to us!
The heart faints and the spirit faints
For only Thee all-Glorious,
For Thee, O only Lord, for Thee.