 | The Prisoner of Love |  |
157
May 10 NOT FOR MYSELF
“Jesus . . . who for the joy that was set before him endured
the cross, despising the shame.”—Heb. xii. 2.
Not for myself, O dearest Lord,
Not for the glory or the gain
I clasp Thy Cross and welcome pain,
And lean my breast upon Thy Sword—
That it might smite and smite again,
Or give my heart a broken chord;
Not for the fame or finger pointed,
Am I by Thee with grief anointed.
Not for the glory or the gain
I clasp Thy Cross and welcome pain,
And lean my breast upon Thy Sword—
That it might smite and smite again,
Or give my heart a broken chord;
Not for the fame or finger pointed,
Am I by Thee with grief anointed.
Not for myself or even to swell
A brother's joy though that is dear,
I take from him the pressing fear
And carry mine with his as well—
Or wipe away the orphan's tear,
And bear the outcast's lonely hell;
Not for the world's poor passing fashion,
Dost Thou fill me with Thy compassion.
A brother's joy though that is dear,
I take from him the pressing fear
And carry mine with his as well—
Or wipe away the orphan's tear,
And bear the outcast's lonely hell;
Not for the world's poor passing fashion,
Dost Thou fill me with Thy compassion.
Not for myself or heaven and bliss
Or dread of future wrath and woe,
I hail a friend in every foe
And answer blows with but a kiss;
The petty thorn, the earthquake throe,
All pangs, can never come amiss;
I live, I die, I yield each treasure,
Because I love to do Thy Pleasure.
Or dread of future wrath and woe,
I hail a friend in every foe
And answer blows with but a kiss;
The petty thorn, the earthquake throe,
All pangs, can never come amiss;
I live, I die, I yield each treasure,
Because I love to do Thy Pleasure.
| The Prisoner of Love | |