'THE LOVE OF CHRIST WHICH PASSETH KNOWLEDGE." I BORE with thee long weary days and nights, Through many pangs of heart, through many tears; I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights, For three and thirty years. Who else had dared for thee what I have dared? Give thou Me love for love. For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth, I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced : Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy name Did thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine eyes : I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame; I, God, Priest, Sacrifice. A thief upon My right hand and My left; At length in death one smote My heart and cleft Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of down A harvest, come and reap. "A BRUISED REED SHALL HE NOT BREAK." I WILL accept thy will to do and be, Thy hatred and intolerance of sin, Thy will at least to love, that burns within So will I render fruitful, blessing still The germs and small beginnings in thy heart, Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receive I guide them turning towards Me; I control If thou desire, it yet shall come to pass, Though thou but wish indeed to choose My love; For I have power in earth and heaven above. I cannot wish, alas! What, neither choose nor wish to choose? and yet I still must strive to win thee and constrain: For thee I hung upon the cross in pain, How then can I forget? If thou as yet dost neither love, nor hate, Nor choose, nor wish, resign thyself, be still A BETTER RESURRECTION. I HAVE no wit, no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone Look right, look left, I dwell alone; My life is in the falling leaf: O Jesus, quicken me! |