 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
The Song Chalice.
‘You bear the chalice.’ Is it so, my friend?Have I indeed a chalice of sweet song,
With underflow of harmony made strong
New calm of strength through throbbing veins to send?
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That which the Master poured into my soul,
His dewdrops caught in a poor earthen bowl,
That service so with praise might meekly blend.
May He who taught the morning stars to sing,
Aye keep my chalice cool, and pure, and sweet,
And grant me so with loving hand to bring
Refreshment to His weary ones,—to meet
Their thirst with water from God's music-spring;
And, bearing thus, to pour it at His feet.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |