Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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LIVING THE LIFE. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
LIVING THE LIFE.
The Lord in mercy came to me
In all my blots and misses,
And spoke of blessed things to be—
His eyes looked full of kisses.
But on his head a shameful crown
Of thorns exceeding cruel,
My own, did weigh him sadly down—
And yet shone as a jewel.
While on his bruised and bended shoulder,
Borne as through bitter strife,
My cross, which seem to wear Him older
Living the life.
In all my blots and misses,
And spoke of blessed things to be—
His eyes looked full of kisses.
But on his head a shameful crown
Of thorns exceeding cruel,
My own, did weigh him sadly down—
And yet shone as a jewel.
While on his bruised and bended shoulder,
Borne as through bitter strife,
My cross, which seem to wear Him older
Living the life.
He laid the crown upon my head,
His own, with benediction,
That royally I thus might tread
His highway of affliction.
The thorns were very sharp but shot
Through me like new vitality,
And though the furnace fire was hot
It bathed in immortality.
Each little loss turned to an altar
With sacrificial knife,
And yet no moment could I falter—
Living the life.
His own, with benediction,
That royally I thus might tread
His highway of affliction.
The thorns were very sharp but shot
Through me like new vitality,
And though the furnace fire was hot
It bathed in immortality.
Each little loss turned to an altar
With sacrificial knife,
And yet no moment could I falter—
Living the life.
He laid the cross upon my back,
His own, with words of healing;
Till all the stones, along the track,
Stood out like stars' revealing.
And every nail a silken glove
Grew out of woesome iron,
Which as with arms of utter love
My sadness did environ.
And every wound was richer sweetness
With milk and honey rife,
And this poor soul got grand completeness—
Living the life.
His own, with words of healing;
Till all the stones, along the track,
Stood out like stars' revealing.
And every nail a silken glove
270
Which as with arms of utter love
My sadness did environ.
And every wound was richer sweetness
With milk and honey rife,
And this poor soul got grand completeness—
Living the life.
And now we have a common heart
In peace or angry weather,
We do not have one thought apart—
We bear and burn together.
My very Crown of care it is,
The thorns my only guerdon
With all the suffering, and yet His
No less the precious burden.
The Cross, with which I would not tarry,
A treasure dear as wife,
He makes His own and loves to carry—
Living the life.
In peace or angry weather,
We do not have one thought apart—
We bear and burn together.
My very Crown of care it is,
The thorns my only guerdon
With all the suffering, and yet His
No less the precious burden.
The Cross, with which I would not tarry,
A treasure dear as wife,
He makes His own and loves to carry—
Living the life.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |