The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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July 27
OUR HIDING-PLACE |
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The Prisoner of Love | ||
246
July 27 OUR HIDING-PLACE
“Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach
hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not
faithless, but believing.”—St. John xx. 27.
I see at last my grievous sin,
And, O dear Saviour, let me hide
Away from all its woe within
Thy blessed Wounds and riven Side;
Thou art the Living Rock, and Thou
Wast broken that I should not break,
But might find ever there and now
Mercy for Love's most precious sake.
And, O dear Saviour, let me hide
Away from all its woe within
Thy blessed Wounds and riven Side;
Thou art the Living Rock, and Thou
Wast broken that I should not break,
But might find ever there and now
Mercy for Love's most precious sake.
I would not hide as Adam hid
Afar from God, because he chose
The selfish path of pride, and did
The deed that had no earthly close.
As Thou didst cover Moses, stand
About me in Thine awful Grace,
And hide me in Thy sheltering Hand—
I dare not look upon Thy Face.
Afar from God, because he chose
The selfish path of pride, and did
The deed that had no earthly close.
As Thou didst cover Moses, stand
About me in Thine awful Grace,
And hide me in Thy sheltering Hand—
I dare not look upon Thy Face.
Nor would I as the Prophet hide
From duty in the desert shade,
Though he had drunk of Cherith's tide
And sat at feasts Thy Bounty made.
But like Nathanael would I rest
Beneath the fig-tree as he knelt,
Or lie like John upon Thy Breast
And live in shadow where he dwelt.
From duty in the desert shade,
Though he had drunk of Cherith's tide
And sat at feasts Thy Bounty made.
But like Nathanael would I rest
Beneath the fig-tree as he knelt,
Or lie like John upon Thy Breast
And live in shadow where he dwelt.
The Prisoner of Love | ||