University of Virginia Library

“An exceeding bitter cry.”

Contempt and pangs and haunting fears—
Too late for hope, too late for ease,
Too late for rising from the dead;
Too late, too late to bend my knees,
Or bow my head,
Or weep, or ask for tears.
Hark! . . . One I hear Who calls to me:
“Give Me thy thorn and grief and scorn,
Give Me thy ruin and regret.

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Press on thro' darkness toward the morn:
One loves thee yet:
Have I forgotten thee?”
Lord, Who art Thou? Lord, is it Thou
My Lord and God Lord Jesus Christ?
How said I that I sat alone
And desolate and unsufficed?
Surely a stone
Would raise Thy praises now!