Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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DYING DAILY. |
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DYING DAILY.
Father, I feel this heart of mineJust from its very love
Must break, with all its precious wine,
In yearning so above.
I am so crushed by mercy's weight
And blessings yet to be,
I can no longer bear the freight
With which Thou loadest me.
It seems in praise's every burst
Of passion and desire,
As only true thanksgiving durst,
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Each moment is a miracle,
A gift that cannot fade;
And in Thy tender crucible,
I hourly am re-made.
For what is this poor narrow breast
That Thou should'st ever come,
To live there as no passing guest
And honour it as Home?
Ah, when I know I darkly lie
So oft in bondage rude,
At thought of Thee I daily die
From utter gratitude.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |