University of Virginia Library

previous section The Prisoner of Love
next section
267

August 16 A VOICE

“A voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord.”—St. John i. 23.

Had I the pinions of a dove,
I would be just a wandering voice
And sing, dear Saviour, “God is Love—
O every Soul, rejoice, rejoice!”
Yea, I would ask for nothing more,
But sing the Cross Thy Mercy bore.
I want to lose myself in Thee,
And serving others as I can
To tell them only Grace is free,
And in the Message hide the man;
I would not be myself at all,
But simply Thy sweet trumpet-call.
Give me the burning wings of faith
And hope that I may upward fly,
Beyond the bars of sin and death,
And breathe Thine own Eternity;
Master, I dare not ask for less
To fill me than Thy Holiness.
But with Thy Goodness may I shine
Or not a further moment be,
That all may always thus be Thine
And nothing evermore of me;
I will not have another choice
Than only, Lord, to be Thy voice.
268

I would be like Thy servant John
The Baptist, with that single cry
Which through the ages echoes on—
“Prepare, for Christ is passing by.”
Nor would I utter even one word
Not hallowed by Thy Love, dear Lord.
previous section The Prisoner of Love
next section