The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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May 8
BENDING OF THE BOW |
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The Prisoner of Love | ||
155
May 8 BENDING OF THE BOW
“When I have bent Judah for me, filled the bow with
Ephraim.”—Zech. ix. 13.
O Master, daily should I bow
And stumble but for Thy dear sake—
Yea, even while speaking; hold me now;
For, in Thy Hand, I cannot break.
And if I stoop, may only toil
Compel me and no touch of sin;
When I would cleave the stony soil,
And only stoop with Thee to win.
And stumble but for Thy dear sake—
Yea, even while speaking; hold me now;
For, in Thy Hand, I cannot break.
And if I stoop, may only toil
Compel me and no touch of sin;
When I would cleave the stony soil,
And only stoop with Thee to win.
If under Thy kind Cross I faint
And pass through many a bitter death,
Because of this sore fleshly taint,
I know Thy Mercy lies beneath.
And it is lovely, Lord, to find
Thy precious burden on me press,
And know (though I be often blind)
The Cross is Thy most sweet caress.
And pass through many a bitter death,
Because of this sore fleshly taint,
I know Thy Mercy lies beneath.
And it is lovely, Lord, to find
Thy precious burden on me press,
And know (though I be often blind)
The Cross is Thy most sweet caress.
Ah, sometimes take me in Thine Arms
And with my weakness fill Thy Bow,
That I may dread no more alarms
And on Thy service speed below;
Yea, Master, I would dare to ask
To be Thy Bow in Pity sent,
If little for no little task,
And in Thy battles only bent.
And with my weakness fill Thy Bow,
That I may dread no more alarms
And on Thy service speed below;
Yea, Master, I would dare to ask
To be Thy Bow in Pity sent,
If little for no little task,
And in Thy battles only bent.
The Prisoner of Love | ||