See My Hands bleed that bring thee grace, My Heart doth bleed for thee, Open to Me." So till the break of day: Then died away That voice, in silence as of sorrow; Then footsteps echoing like a sigh Lingering footsteps slow to pass. Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door The mark of blood forevermore. LONG BARREN. HOU who didst hang upon a barren tree, TH My God, for me; Though I till now be barren, now at length, Lord, give me strength To bring forth fruit to Thee. Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn, Spitting and scorn; Though I till now have put forth thorns, yet now Strengthen me Thou That better fruit be borne. Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots, Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf, Feed Thou my feeble shoots. IF ONLY. F I might only love my God and die! IF But now He bids me love Him and live on, And I forget how summer glowed and shone, But when it passes spring shall flower again : And in that spring who weepeth now shall smile, Yea, they shall wax who now are on the wane, Yea, they shall sing for love when Christ shall come. I DOST THOU NOT CARE? LOVE and love not: Lord, it breaks my heart To love and not to love. Thou veiled within Thy glory, gone apart Into Thy shrine, which is above, Dost Thou not love me, Lord, or care For this mine ill?. I love thee here or there, I will accept thy broken heart, lie still. Lord, it was well with me in time gone by When I was fresh and cheerful, who but I? O Lord, how long? I watch thee as thou art, I will accept thy fainting heart, be strong. "Lie still," "be strong," to-day; but, Lord, to-morrow, What of to-morrow, Lord ? Shall there be rest from toil, be truce from sorrow, Be living green upon the sward Now but a barren grave to me, Be joy for sorrow? Did I not die for thee? Do I not live for thee? leave Me to-morrow. WEARY IN WELL-DOING. I WOULD have gone; God bade me stay: I would have worked; God bade me rest. He broke my will from day to day, He read my yearnings unexpressed, And said them nay. Now I would stay; God bids me go : I go, Lord, where Thou sendest me; And rest with Thee? MARTYRS' SONG. WE E meet in joy, though we part in sorrow; We part to-night, but we meet to-morrow. Be it flood or blood the path that 's trod, All the same it leads home to God: One like God's Son will walk with us. What are these that glow from afar, What are these that fly as a cloud, |