One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads Original, and suitable for music [by Jean Ingelow] |
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[O Christ of God, in my good days] |
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 | One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads |  |
59
[O Christ of God, in my good days]
“To know...the fellowship of His sufferings.”
O Christ of God, in my good days
I found Thee, both in work and praise;
But now the cup of pain I drink
And fail to find Thee there,—and sink.
I found Thee, both in work and praise;
But now the cup of pain I drink
And fail to find Thee there,—and sink.
Sore is the weight doth on me lie,
Jesu, I shall not live but die;
Thee have I loved, yet fear is now,
And though Thou diedst, I find not how.
Jesu, I shall not live but die;
Thee have I loved, yet fear is now,
And though Thou diedst, I find not how.
In toil for Thee in holy strife
Thy death was hid from me by life;
Now sinks my heart, now fails my breath,
Thy life is hid from me by death.
Thy death was hid from me by life;
Now sinks my heart, now fails my breath,
Thy life is hid from me by death.
I faint, and at Thy Cross lie low;
There is no resting, Lord, but so!
The abhorrèd nails my lips do meet,
My arms embrace Thy bleeding feet.
There is no resting, Lord, but so!
The abhorrèd nails my lips do meet,
My arms embrace Thy bleeding feet.
O depth of pain: forget, my soul,
Thy little part; behold the whole.
O Christ, Thy thorns have woundèd me,
Of Thee redeem'd, I bleed with Thee.
Thy little part; behold the whole.
O Christ, Thy thorns have woundèd me,
Of Thee redeem'd, I bleed with Thee.
What dost Thou tell me, dying Lord,
Am not I near to heed Thy word?
I mourn for God, I make my cry
In union with Thy death to die.
Am not I near to heed Thy word?
I mourn for God, I make my cry
In union with Thy death to die.
60
My soul drawn nearer sweetness finds;
The fellowship of suffering binds;
In this dark hour Thou teachest me
My soul is in the dark—with Thee.
The fellowship of suffering binds;
In this dark hour Thou teachest me
My soul is in the dark—with Thee.
I will lay hold, O death divine,
Till all my will is lost in Thine;
Till grief a balm in union prove,
And suffering be assuaged with love.
Till all my will is lost in Thine;
Till grief a balm in union prove,
And suffering be assuaged with love.
| One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads | |