The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti A variorum edition: Edited, with textual notes and introductions, by R. W. Crump |
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The Offering of the New Law, the One Oblation once Offered. |
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 | The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti |  |
The Offering of the New Law, the One Oblation once Offered.
“Sacrifice and Offering Thou wouldest not, but a BODY hast Thou prepared Me.”
Once I thought to sit so high
In the Palace of the sky;
Now I thank God for His Grace,
If I may fill the lowest place.
In the Palace of the sky;
Now I thank God for His Grace,
If I may fill the lowest place.
Once I thought to scale so soon
Heights above the changing moon;
Now I thank God for delay—
Today, it yet is called today.
Heights above the changing moon;
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Today, it yet is called today.
While I stumble, halt and blind,
Lo! He waiteth to be kind;
Bless me soon, or bless me slow,
Except He bless, I let not go.
Lo! He waiteth to be kind;
Bless me soon, or bless me slow,
Except He bless, I let not go.
Once for earth I laid my plan,
Once I leaned on strength of man,
When my hope was swept aside,
I stayed my broken heart on pride:
Once I leaned on strength of man,
When my hope was swept aside,
I stayed my broken heart on pride:
Broken reed hath pierced my hand;
Fell my house I built on sand;
Roofless, wounded, maimed by sin,
Fightings without, and fears within:
Fell my house I built on sand;
Roofless, wounded, maimed by sin,
Fightings without, and fears within:
Yet, a tree, He feeds my root;
Yet, a branch, He prunes for fruit;
Yet, a sheep, these eves and morns,
He seeks for me among the thorns.
Yet, a branch, He prunes for fruit;
Yet, a sheep, these eves and morns,
He seeks for me among the thorns.
With Thine Image stamped of old,
Find Thy coin more choice than gold;
Known to Thee by name, recall
To Thee Thy home-sick prodigal.
Find Thy coin more choice than gold;
Known to Thee by name, recall
To Thee Thy home-sick prodigal.
Sacrifice and Offering
None there is that I can bring;
None, save what is Thine alone:
I bring Thee, Lord, but of Thine Own—
None there is that I can bring;
None, save what is Thine alone:
I bring Thee, Lord, but of Thine Own—
Broken Body, Blood Outpoured,
These I bring, my God, my Lord;
Wine of Life, and Living Bread,
With these for me Thy Board is spread.
These I bring, my God, my Lord;
Wine of Life, and Living Bread,
With these for me Thy Board is spread.
| The Complete Poems of Christina Rossetti | |