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 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
397
‘He Suffered.’
‘He suffered!’ Was it, Lord, indeed for me,The Just One for the unjust, Thou didst bear
The weight of sorrow that I hardly dare
To look upon, in dark Gethsemane?
‘He suffered!’ Thou, my near and gracious Friend,
And yet my Lord, my God! Thou didst not shrink
For me that full and fearful cup to drink,
Because Thou lovedst even to the end!
‘He suffered!’ Saviour, was Thy love so vast
That mysteries of unknown agony,
Even unto death, its only gauge could be,
Unmeasured as the fiery depths it passed?
Lord, by the sorrows of Gethsemane,
Seal Thou my quivering love for ever unto Thee!
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |