University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

“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.

190

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!