Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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NUMBERED AND WEIGHED. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
NUMBERED AND WEIGHED.
Lord, I know my days are numbered
And each throbbing of my heart,
Though I am with care so cumbered,
In creation's plan has part;
And throughout the endless ages
Of forgotten stars and stages
First within Thy Love did start,
And from that most awful seat
Gave its earliest tender beat;
And each noteless tiny second
Is as needful to the life as a century of strife,
And by Thee esteemed and reckoned.
And each throbbing of my heart,
Though I am with care so cumbered,
In creation's plan has part;
And throughout the endless ages
Of forgotten stars and stages
First within Thy Love did start,
And from that most awful seat
Gave its earliest tender beat;
And each noteless tiny second
Is as needful to the life as a century of strife,
And by Thee esteemed and reckoned.
Yes, each separate hair is counted
And the gain above the loss,
With the step I hardly mounted
Leading up to the sweet Cross;
And before the world had being
In Thy calm eternal seeing
Fires were heated for my dross,
And the furnace and the throne
Then were made for me alone;
All was done by Thy decision,
And each slender detail mapt (though within the millions wrapt)
By Thy great and wise prevision.
And the gain above the loss,
With the step I hardly mounted
Leading up to the sweet Cross;
And before the world had being
In Thy calm eternal seeing
Fires were heated for my dross,
274
Then were made for me alone;
All was done by Thy decision,
And each slender detail mapt (though within the millions wrapt)
By Thy great and wise prevision.
Every bit of me is measured
By the wisdom without end,
Every sigh or teardrop treasured
By One closer than a friend;
Not an atom of my nature,
But by Thee is meted stature
And with Thine prepared to blend;
For Thou dost revive my sloth,
And art strength and standard both.
On my stains Thou pourest meetness,
And hast from Thy very breast stript the royal righteous vest
Clothing me with Thy completeness.
By the wisdom without end,
Every sigh or teardrop treasured
By One closer than a friend;
Not an atom of my nature,
But by Thee is meted stature
And with Thine prepared to blend;
For Thou dost revive my sloth,
And art strength and standard both.
On my stains Thou pourest meetness,
And hast from Thy very breast stript the royal righteous vest
Clothing me with Thy completeness.
Every act is weighed most kindly
In those balances of Grace,
And the weakness that walks blindly
In Thy mercy finds a place—
Just to that for ever fitted—
Where I stand at peace acquitted,
In the sunshine of Thy Face.
Every effort, at Thy Feet,
Has its value and is sweet,
Though these earthly clouds may dim it;
If it only wants to be Christly, and is striven for Thee;
And Thy love breaks down its limit.
In those balances of Grace,
And the weakness that walks blindly
In Thy mercy finds a place—
Just to that for ever fitted—
Where I stand at peace acquitted,
In the sunshine of Thy Face.
Every effort, at Thy Feet,
Has its value and is sweet,
Though these earthly clouds may dim it;
If it only wants to be Christly, and is striven for Thee;
And Thy love breaks down its limit.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |