Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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MY STAFF. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
MY STAFF.
“Thy Rod and Thy Staff, they comfort me.”
I begged the Master for a staff,
To stay a pilgrim poor
And scatter perils like the chaff
Upon the threshing-floor;
Whereon I might securely lean
And walk the narrow way,
Unsoiled in circuits all unclean
Where vice keeps holiday;
A strong assurance for endurance
In burdens on me laid,
A constant token of unbroken
Communion and His aid.
To stay a pilgrim poor
And scatter perils like the chaff
Upon the threshing-floor;
Whereon I might securely lean
And walk the narrow way,
Unsoiled in circuits all unclean
Where vice keeps holiday;
A strong assurance for endurance
In burdens on me laid,
A constant token of unbroken
Communion and His aid.
I asked not for a sceptre's gold,
The bauble of a king,
But something sweetened by His hold
Where safely I could cling;
That would not fail in utmost need
At the first angry gust,
And snapping like a bruisèd reed
Betray my settled trust;
That wore no traces of the graces
From dying art or earth,
Nor was a witness to unfitness
Foredoomed at very birth.
The bauble of a king,
But something sweetened by His hold
Where safely I could cling;
That would not fail in utmost need
At the first angry gust,
And snapping like a bruisèd reed
Betray my settled trust;
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From dying art or earth,
Nor was a witness to unfitness
Foredoomed at very birth.
The Master listened to my cry,
And freely gave the staff
That stayed me in extremity,
And scattered fears like chaff;
It was not what I had desired
Though better than I sought,
Yet past the summits I aspired
To reach my footsteps brought;
Because its fashion was the Passion
Whereby He also trod,
The blessèd sifting and uplifting
Of suffering and the Rod.
And freely gave the staff
That stayed me in extremity,
And scattered fears like chaff;
It was not what I had desired
Though better than I sought,
Yet past the summits I aspired
To reach my footsteps brought;
Because its fashion was the Passion
Whereby He also trod,
The blessèd sifting and uplifting
Of suffering and the Rod.
And thus the sorrow on me bound
In sickness and through loss,
By faith a comforter was found—
I leaned upon my cross;
The prop, which I with idle quest
Pursued to help me stand
And yield the refuge and the rest,
Itself was in my hand;
And now for ever each endeavour
Is beautiful and free,
I bear no straining load or paining—
The cross, it carries me.
In sickness and through loss,
By faith a comforter was found—
I leaned upon my cross;
The prop, which I with idle quest
Pursued to help me stand
And yield the refuge and the rest,
Itself was in my hand;
And now for ever each endeavour
Is beautiful and free,
I bear no straining load or paining—
The cross, it carries me.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |