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 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
Nor only by reclaiming His good gifts,
But by withholding, doth the Master write
These words upon the heart. Not always needs
Erasure of some blessèd line of love
For this more blest inscription. where He finds
A tablet empty for the ‘lines left out,’
That ‘might have been’ engraved with human love
And sweetest human cares, yet never bore
That poetry of life, His own dear hand
Writes ‘Free to serve!’ And these clear characters
Fill with fair colours all the unclaimed space,
Else grey and colourless.
But by withholding, doth the Master write
These words upon the heart. Not always needs
Erasure of some blessèd line of love
For this more blest inscription. where He finds
A tablet empty for the ‘lines left out,’
That ‘might have been’ engraved with human love
And sweetest human cares, yet never bore
That poetry of life, His own dear hand
Writes ‘Free to serve!’ And these clear characters
Fill with fair colours all the unclaimed space,
Else grey and colourless.
Then let it be
The motto of our lives until we stand
In the great freedom of Eternity,
Where we ‘shall serve Him’ while we see His face,
For ever and for ever ‘Free to serve.’
The motto of our lives until we stand
In the great freedom of Eternity,
Where we ‘shall serve Him’ while we see His face,
For ever and for ever ‘Free to serve.’
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |