The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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April 9
NOTHING GOOD |
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 | The Prisoner of Love |  |
122
April 9 NOTHING GOOD
“There is none that doeth good, no, not one.”—Ps. liii. 3.
Nothing of good, dear Lord, is mine
That I may offer Thee the thrift
Of hoarding years a Heavenly gift,
Till great Love maketh it Divine;
But O the Goodness, that doth lift
Me to Thy Heart and there enshrine.
Nothing, dear Lord, of mine is good
Ere gathered to Thy Fatherhood.
That I may offer Thee the thrift
Of hoarding years a Heavenly gift,
Till great Love maketh it Divine;
But O the Goodness, that doth lift
Me to Thy Heart and there enshrine.
Nothing, dear Lord, of mine is good
Ere gathered to Thy Fatherhood.
And when beneath the Cross I bear,
Which rather carries me, I feel
Passion and pain and blindly reel;
Though bitter are the thorns that tear
My tortured bosom, as I kneel—
Yet worthless all the wounds I wear;
No merit is there in one pang,
If on the Cross I ever hang.
Which rather carries me, I feel
Passion and pain and blindly reel;
Though bitter are the thorns that tear
My tortured bosom, as I kneel—
Yet worthless all the wounds I wear;
No merit is there in one pang,
If on the Cross I ever hang.
My sorrows cannot purge me so,
Nor lies there virtue in the nails
Whereto I fly, when purpose fails
And leaves me in my shame below;
But by these Grace Divine prevails,
And brings the peace Christ doth bestow.
My honour is to bless the rod,
And yield the glory but to God.
Nor lies there virtue in the nails
Whereto I fly, when purpose fails
And leaves me in my shame below;
But by these Grace Divine prevails,
And brings the peace Christ doth bestow.
My honour is to bless the rod,
And yield the glory but to God.
| The Prisoner of Love | |