The Prisoner of Love :: :: University of Virginia Library

I prayed the troubled night would cease,
I prayed for respite or release
From care with crucifying bond;
I looked into the dark and dust,
Nor lifted up my lamp of trust
Which bade me look from earth beyond.
I prayed for light that seemed delaying,
But, ah, my lips alone were praying.

I prayed, though I had mastered not
The lessons of my suffering lot,
Which Love in larger mercy gave;
I wanted to be strong and wise
And win an easy Paradise,
But not to lie within the grave.
The crown was all my poor petition,
Without the Cross its one transition.

I prayed in midnight murk of doubt
And deemed the shadows dwelt without,
When they were only in my pride;
I thought to take the splendid spoil
Escaping trials and the toil,
When the whole darkness was inside;
I prayed, but did not like the paying,
Till I had learnt that life was praying.

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August 2 THE CROSS OF PATIENCE

“In returning and rest shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.”—Isa. xxx. 15.

What is thy cross, my brother?
To go through burning fire,
And wear the smoke and smother
As royal rich attire?
To lie in darkling trenches
Beneath an alien sky,
When not rain only drenches
Soldiers of Liberty?

What is thy cross, my brother?
To take the solemn vow
For Holy Church our Mother,
Sealèd with breast and brow?
Down in the grave-grey alleys
To plant the banner Truth,
While round it dimly rallies
Wreckage of age and youth?

What is thy cross, my brother?
Now to stand very still,
And see the while another
Enter thy field to till?
There is no cross like resting
Though safely in the Ark,
When thou would'st fain be breasting
The mountains of the dark.

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August 3 THE UNIVERSALS

“He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set eternity in their heart.”—Eccles. iii. 11.

From dull particulars of sense,
The touch, the taste, and sordid fact,
O lift me, Lord, to the intense—
The soul within the word or act;
That I may see the living Light,
The universal, and be glad
That mine is too the mystic sight
All Brothers of the Cross have had.

Give me the calm of every saint
Who crushed the baser life below,
The peace that God can only paint,
Like faces of Correggio;
The tranquil gaze that looks beyond
Time with its dark and drifting sands,
And cannot doubt nor will despond,
But clasps the Heaven with praying hands.

Ah, let me if by travail pains
Learn by blest fear or upward fall,
That Love reveals but not explains
The message which it bears to all;
And precious truths we make our own,
Deeper than most abysmal things
And death itself, are never known
Save in their glorious vanishings.

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August 4 GOD'S REPENTANCE

“The Lord repented for this: It shall not be, saith the Lord.”— Amos vii. 3.

By whom shall faithful Israel rise,
Beneath the trial of the flame?
For he is small, and Paradise
Opens but to the Holy Name.
How shall a humble thing of shame
Contend with the eternities?
Ah, Lord, be merciful, and greatly
Deal with Thy souls that sinned so lately.

By whom shall faithful Israel stand
Before Thee in the day of strife,
And take the moulding of Thy Hand
Which slayeth but to give us life?
How shall he brook the pruning knife,
Piercing the heart at Thy command?
Father, he serveth at Thine Altar,
And if he stoops he doth not falter.

O faithful Israel shall rise up
When he through Calvary hath been
And drunk with Thee the bitter cup,
Saviour, and seen what Thou hast seen;
Thy Grace is large, Thy shadows green,
And at Thy Table he shall sup.
Dear Lord, ere he had felt the sentence
He found in Love and Thee repentance.

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August 5 PRESENT SALVATION

“The word is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart, that thou mayest do it.”—Deut. xxx. 14.

There are who found salvation near,
Betwixt the trouble and the tear,
But ere they felt the burden press
It proved Thy Hand's Divine caress;
The timid doubt, the foolish fear,
Died in Thy Love and Graciousness.
It was Redemption first they fled,
Which by the Holy Cross was shed.

There are who dreamed salvation far,
As dim and distant as a star,
Beyond the reach of utmost thought
And by long times of travail bought;
They deemed, with iron bound and bar,
Somehow at length it might be wrought;
Until they saw Redemption nigh,
Betwixt the sorrow and the sigh.

There are who still in sorrow pray
And lift their hands unto the day,
Or toil with fond and fruitless might
And lean upon the unlovely night;
Although their feet are in the way,
And follow Jesus in their flight;
They drink Salvation at each breath,
But think Redemption's life is death.

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August 6 RECEIVING CHRIST

“No man can come to me, except the Father which hath sent me draw him.”—St. John vi. 44.

None can receive Christ in his heart
And grow unto the perfect man,
Where Christ is not already part
Of every power and every plan;
O we receive but what we bring,
Whether we weep for joy or sing;
And the great wellsprings only start,
If Christ the Fountain there began.

None can receive the inward ray
Who hath not got the kindled breast,
The sunrise of eternal day,
The radiant source, the Sabbath rest;
O we receive but what we are,
Or dusky cloud or dazzling star;
We have the blessing which we pray,
And the pursuit was first possest.

None can receive Christ who hath not
Shrined Him above his dearest things,
Unless Christ is his chosen lot—
The music of the secret strings;
O we receive but what we have,
Or endless life or awful grave;
We simply learn what we forgot,
And royal crowns come to their kings.

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August 7 MERCY AND TRUTH

“All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such as keep his covenant and his testimonies.”—Ps. xxv. 10.

All Thy ways Mercy are and Truth,
The light of life, eternal youth,
For those that walk in simple trust;
The darkest road is very bright
And sweet and sown with secret light,
Thy choicest gems are in the dust.
Jesus, Thy Love's most precious bound
Is never sought till it is found.

The pathway of the Cross is good,
And every step where Christ hath stood
Is right and beautiful and blest;
The mourning ground where tears are shed
And where we bury our dear dead,
Even as we bury them is best;
Gold gleameth where the world counts dross,
The inward gains are outward loss.

All Thy ways Mercy are and Truth,
For gleaners after Thee like Ruth
Who can be patient too and still;
For those that wait upon Thee, Lord,
Pluck sweetness from the martyr's sword
And purest peace from restless ill;
They see Thy Christly sway in all,
The crown, the Cross, the cattle stall.

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August 8 FETTERED AND FREE

“In that he died, he died unto sin once: but in that he liveth, he liveth unto God.”—Rom. vi. 10.

He is not crowned who never wears the cross,
Not were that life which was not utter loss
For Christ who is our only gain;
He cannot laugh who hath not learnt from tears
The secret that is riddled by our fears,
Nor plucked its blessing out of pain;
Love is not great, Lord, which would not be greater
Nor born that was not one with the Creator.

Joy goes to sorrow if it would be wise,
He stoops the lowest who doth highest rise
And leans upon the chastening rod;
Hope studies in the barren schools of doubt,
To find the faith that comes most fruitful out
And draw the nearer to our God.
He is not good, Lord, who would not be better,
He is not free who hath not still Thy fetter.

Ere we lie down we feel no upward pull,
Till we are emptied we cannot be full
Of Christ who only fills our hearts;
And in the setting of our earthly sun
We see new morn in the old eve begun,
And healing out of broken parts.
He doth not live, who is not always dying
And finds his burdens but the wings for flying.

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August 9 THE HUMAN BOOK

“And a book of remembrance was written before him.”— Mal. iii. 16.

Dear Christ, Thou only hast one Book,
Wherein Thou readest night and day
And every moment of our way;
Though man hath many a wandering look,
And flies from flowers to weeds astray—
To empty wells from Cherith's brook.
Though sad the pages, dim the parts,
Thy literature is human hearts.

If blurred and blemished is each line,
And never a passage free from spot,
Yet Love finds beauty in the blot
And perfect Pity makes it shine;
The faults Thy Grace remembers not,
In joy to turn our deeds Divine.
However black the sin or doubt,
Thy falling tear will wash it out.

Ah, when there is some sadder stain
The Cross throws its sweet Shadow then
On what is writ by evil pen,
And in that Shadow vice is vain;
It quenches works of wicked men,
And we are hidden in its Pain.
It is Thy Book, and though I sin
Make me a living word therein.

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August 10 CHRIST THE SEEKER

“The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.”—St. Luke xix. 10.

Thou art not seeking, Christ it is
Pursuing thee;
And wert thou not already His,
Vainly the soul would hark or see;
Thou art not thirsty, it is God
Himself Who asks
Thy love, and only bears the rod
Of sinners and their tears and tasks;
Thou art not weary, He is faint
In every saint.

Thou from Thy darkness fliest not,
But Christ alone
Doth bring the Light where'er thy lot,
And in the eclipse for thee atone;
Thou dost not feel the deadly guilt
Of wicked ways,
But He Whose Blood was freely spilt
And shrives the heart before it prays;
Thou hadst not known thy bitter loss,
Without the Cross.

Thou hast not sorrowed, it is He
Who beareth all;
He suffered for and dies in thee
Daily, ere even thy feeblest call;

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The Life it cometh to thy grave
With quickening breath,
And giveth what thou dost not crave,
Himself as thy redeeming Death.
The Saviour, by Whom Life was won,
Seeketh God's son.

Thou are not pleading, it is Christ
Praying for thee;
For yet He holds His awful tryst,
In every lot Gethsemane.
Thou art not needy, Christ is poor
Without each soul;
His Love keeps knocking at thy door,
Breaking the heart to make it whole.
He were not perfect unless thine,
Nor so Divine.

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August 11 THE MEASURE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS

“He will magnify the law, and make it honourable.”— Isa. xlii. 21.

I wish to magnify Thy Law,
Dear Father, at the Saviour's Throne,
The blessèd Cross our hope and awe—
And thus I measure it alone;
There is no other way than this
To gauge its grandeur and no less,
Where Truth and Mercy meet and kiss
Within Thy rule of Righteousness.

O Thou the gentlest One of all
Didst bow in Jesus to the dust,
To save us from the frequent fall
And show Thy Love is likewise just;
There Thou for ever didst exalt
The dreadful Majesty of Right,
That none should question or assault
The fount and safeguard of our light.

And if I sometimes lightly deem
That Thou wilt pass my errors by,
And Grace is other than it seem,
Again I go to Calvary;
Unto the Cross my doubts I take
And find Love never Love might be,
If it could at no cost forsake
Its law and set the sinner free.

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August 12 THE PRESENCE AND HOME

“She departed, and wandered in the wilderness. . . . And God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water.”—Gen. xxi. 14, 19.

We look far forward and we strive
For something great, we do not know
What this may be or how arrive—
We catch a distant gleam or glow;
It must be something we have not,
We dream of wondrous times to come,
A better love, a broader lot—
When in their presence and their home.

To-day is but a petty bond,
For new horizons still we strain
And fancied Heaven that lies beyond,
Toward which we climb in grief and pain;
It must be something which we lack,
A temple with a grander dome
For Eden which it will bring back—
Though in its presence and its home.

To-morrow and to-morrow we
Shall capture that we prize so much,
The shining shadows as they flee
That we can never, never touch;
We think there must be something more
And dream of braver times to come,
Though Christ is standing on this Shore
Which is His Presence and His Home.

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August 13 UNAWARES

“There standeth one among you, whom ye know not.”— St. John i. 26.

“Some have entertained angels unawares.”—Heb. xiii. 2.

“An altar with this inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN GOD.”—Acts xvii. 23.

There standeth One among us oft
Dearer than life and all our own,
His Words are sweet, His Hands are soft,
Yet is He unseen and unknown;
He giveth good, He shields from ill
And is our Shadow in the night,
But O He moves unhonoured still
Who sendeth His belovèd Light.

Sometimes a stranger in our roof
Is sheltered for a little while,
We welcome him, but draw aloof
And grudge each measured gift or smile;
We count the minutes till he goes
And deem our kindnesses are cares,
Then find with the returning woes
We housed an Angel unawares.

We build an Altar in the strife
And turmoil of our troubled days,
We offer this the bloom of life
And there the heart in secret prays;
We worship One, we know not whom—
He raiseth us by laying low;
But at the evening, through the gloom,
Christ comes in Glory and we know.

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August 14 CHRIST THE WAY

“And in the fourth watch of the night Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea.”—St. Matt. xiv. 25.

Never a road but leads at length
Unto the Glory of Christ's Face,
Never a weakness but from strength
Divine may draw its daily grace;
Never a turning but must meet
The Saviour waiting by the way,
And find a welcome warm and sweet—
If we but pause awhile and pray.

Never a place, though small and dim,
Where one dear Footstep is not heard,
That is not large enough for Him
To drop some little saving word;
Never a time, though the last hour,
When He unwilling is to aid
Or grant the Peace that bringeth power
And bids us not to be afraid.

Never a sin that hath no balm
In the full pardon that He gives,
Never a storm without the calm
Wherein the Love (His Presence) lives;
Never a reckless road we take
That rushes on to utter loss,
But yet will by His blessing break
Into the barrier of the Cross.

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August 15 CHRIST THE DREAM

“The desire of all nations shall come: and I will fill this house with glory, saith the Lord of hosts.”—Hag. ii. 7.

Christ was the Dream, the world's Desire,
The Hope of every age and lot;
But when He came in Love's attire,
And not with Power, men knew Him not;
Had He been robed in judgment fire
They would have seen, however dim
Their groping fancies, only Him—
In the black light of every blot.

Christ was the Prophet and the King,
The precious Priest who chose to be
The Sacrifice He had to bring;
He was the Bondsman, to make free
His earthly angel's fettered wing;
While sinners hugged their breaking bands,
With such deliverance in their hands,
And begged the blessèd Dawn to flee.

Open our eyes, dear Lord, that now
We may behold the Dream is all
And not its husk, nor idly bow
To sordid facts that pave our fall;
And hail the sunrise on Thy Brow
Though shadowed with the Cross of Love,
Nor wait fresh visions from above—
Till every heart hath heard Thy call.

267

August 16 A VOICE

“A voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord.”—St. John i. 23.

Had I the pinions of a dove,
I would be just a wandering voice
And sing, dear Saviour, “God is Love—
O every Soul, rejoice, rejoice!”
Yea, I would ask for nothing more,
But sing the Cross Thy Mercy bore.

I want to lose myself in Thee,
And serving others as I can
To tell them only Grace is free,
And in the Message hide the man;
I would not be myself at all,
But simply Thy sweet trumpet-call.

Give me the burning wings of faith
And hope that I may upward fly,
Beyond the bars of sin and death,
And breathe Thine own Eternity;
Master, I dare not ask for less
To fill me than Thy Holiness.

But with Thy Goodness may I shine
Or not a further moment be,
That all may always thus be Thine
And nothing evermore of me;
I will not have another choice
Than only, Lord, to be Thy voice.

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I would be like Thy servant John
The Baptist, with that single cry
Which through the ages echoes on—
“Prepare, for Christ is passing by.”
Nor would I utter even one word
Not hallowed by Thy Love, dear Lord.

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August 17 LIFE AND DEATH

“To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”—Phil. i. 21.

I cannot live without Thee, Lord—
Thy Presence is my very breath,
And (like the sentence of the sword)
The separation from Thee death:
Thou art mine inmost pulse of being,
And Thou the sight of all my seeing.

Dear Christ, how terrible to go
Bound as in graveclothes through the years,
And 'mid corruption never know
The blessèd joy of bitter tears;
And not to find the one salvation,
Which only comes through tribulation.

Ah, show me Thy most precious lore—
Sin is its own exceeding curse,
The penalty of sin is more
And evil ways that go to worse;
We keep but what we spend by giving,
And till we die we know not living.

When I make shipwreck at the last
And meet the final shade and shock,
May I and every care be cast
Alone on Christ who is the Rock
And teach me Peace, when it is spoken,
Can only be if I am broken.

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August 18 SIN

“If ye do return unto the Lord with all your hearts, put away the strange gods and A shtaroth.”—1 Sam. vii. 3.

Incarnate Sin, thou dazzling Death,
I now were lying in thine arms,
Had not the Holy Spirit's Breath
Unveilèd Love's eternal charms:
But he who once with opened eyes
Hath looked upon that Blessèd Face,
Can find no more a Paradise
In any mortal resting-place.

Thy beauty passeth with the flesh
And fashions of the world that fade,
But at the Cross I live afresh
And in Christ's image am remade;
His Glory fills the skies and earth,
It is the light of every hour,
Transfigures all the home and hearth
And is the impulse of each power.

I cannot see thy graces more,
But as within some optic glass
I mark corruption at the core
And bloom that withers like the grass:
Thou art to me a verdant grave
That shows, beneath the Spirit's Breath,
And on bright flowers that flush and wave
The skull and bones of dusty death.

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August 19 TUUM MEUM

“Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.”—Phil. ii. 4.

Take thou the burden of my love,
Dear brother, though it be but small;
And I will gladly bear and prove
The troubles that on thee do fall;
I will not ask for kindness back,
But to make smoother thy rough track.

Just let my tender thought of thee
Remove the darkness from thy way
To mine, that thus thou mayest see
In every shade a shrine to pray;
May it repose on thee like light,
Although I walk with God in night.

And all the burden that I bring
To thee, I wish were greatly more—
Love—to enthrone thee as a king,
And robe as from a royal store;
To crush thy lingering fear or doubt,
And compass thee with praise about.

O spare me not, dear brother, now
That I am longing but to rest
Within thy precious pains, and bow
Under their bondage and be blest;
For it is only in thy grief
I seek my refuge and relief.

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August 20 COMMON BLESSINGS

“Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun.”—Eccles. xi. 7.

Is it not very much to love
And know the servant's life is sweet,
With the blue sky of God above
And all His Mercy at our feet?
O Lord, it is so very much,
That thou hast made Thy creature such.

Is it not very grand to think
Thy thoughts that fashion earth and sky,
And stand unfearful on the brink
Of Love's most awful mystery?
O Lord, it is so very grand,
To trace and hold a Father's Hand.

Is it not very much to see
The wonder and the grace of things,
Thy temple in the forest tree,
Thy step in glorious vanishings?
O Lord, it is so very much,
To feel in all Thy homely touch.

Is it not very good to pray
And be a child of portion blest,
That tired of long and foolish play
Falls back upon a faithful breast?
O Lord, it is so very good,
To rest on Thy great Fatherhood.

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August 21 GOSPEL OF THE DUST

“Shall the dust praise thee? Shall it declare thy truth?”— Ps. xxx. 9.

“Awake and sing, ye that dwell in dust.”—Isa. xxvi. 19.

Lord of my life, sweet Saviour, come
In all Thy meekness and Thy might;
Wherever Thou art is my home,
And only there indeed is Light.
I cannot live, unless I see
Ever Thy Face and rest in Thee.

Reign over me and fill this heart
Full with the glory of Thy Grace,
And make my praises in each part
Meet for the Master's dwelling-place;
My will doth hourly pray and pine,
Till it is moulded more like Thine.

The world is very great and strong,
My spirit willing, Lord, but weak
To face the evil and the wrong
When I would in Thy service speak;
But here Thy chief salvation lies,
Just in these frail infirmities.

O glorify Thy Grace in me,
Magnify now Thy Holy Name,
Till all the powers of darkness flee
Because Thy Love is still the same;
Though I be dust beneath Thy Throne,
Yet let me flower and be Thine own.

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August 22 “IF EACH SAID I”

“I it is that have sinned, . . . but as for these sheep, what have they done?”—1 Chron. xxi. 17.

If each said “I am guilty, Lord,
O let Thy sentence fall on me
And in me sheathe Thy judgment sword,
Which this blind soul refused to see—”
The day would wear a wondrous light,
And darkness be no longer night.

If each said “I am ready, Lord,
To go wherever Thou wilt send
And carry though through hell Thy Word,
Right onward to the utmost end—”
No heavy heart would more complain,
And Eden would be ours again.

If each said “I am willing, Lord,
On me this burden must be laid;
Bind with the sacrificial cord
Me only, for my brother's aid—”
Dull life would drop its every toy,
And almost die with utter joy.

If each said “I am bearing, Lord,
Thy blessèd Cross which yet bears me;
My foot would step but in accord
With Thine, whatever lot may be—”
The sorrowing lands would leave their sin,
Eternal bliss at once begin.

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August 23 GOSPEL OF THE WORM

“I am a worm, and no man.”—Ps. xxii. 6.

From dust this fragile body came
Fashioned by Thee to live and learn,
To love and bless the Holy Name—
Unto its dust shall it return.
Yea, what am I in fleshly form,
Dear Father, but a worm that goes
The prey of every strife or storm,
And helpless with a thousand foes?

But O I have my little place,
Although a worm, and portion here
Shone on by my Creator's Face,
As truly as the mighty sphere;
I have my sun and brighter shade
When outward lights of earth have fled,
A glimpse of Glory when they fade
That folds and quickens even the dead

I am the cousin of the grave
And bound to every mortal thing,
Yet worthy that Thou shouldest save
And upward raise to be a king;
For still the weakest worm of all,
Unhonoured and unknown, nor meet
Except to mark Thy Steps, can crawl
To Christ's dear Cross and Blessèd Feet.

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August 24 MY DEAREST

“His mouth is most sweet; yea, he is altogether lovely.”—Sol. Song v. 16.

Long I could not find my Dearest,
Though in service every day
I felt sure He was the nearest,
And the Light upon my way;
With me walking, with me talking
In my toiling, at my play.
For I somehow could not grasp Him
Close and to my bosom clasp Him,
Nor behold the Blessèd Face;
Nor, howe'er for Him I sought
In the palaces of thought,
Catch Him in some secret place.

But, at last, when earth seemed Christless
Full of empty sounds and glares,
And my fond appointments trystless—
If enriched with golden cares;
In the starkness of sheer darkness,
Lo, I met Him unawares.
And the night with its black portal
Opened to me the Immortal,
And I saw Him in undress;
Naked did He come and sweet,
Naked breasts and naked feet,
In His awful Loveliness.

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August 25 EL SHADDAI

‘Behold, thou art fair, my love.”—Sol. Song i. 15.

When the evening drops its curtain,
And a silence and a rest
Do engarment the uncertain
Landmarks which elude my quest;
He in drearest gloom is clearest,
And divinely manifest.
Then His arms around me twining
Wreathe themselves with more than shining
And compel by quiet force;
Till I fly on sudden wings,
Where the grand eternal springs
Beat and bubble at their source.

Till in vision unarrested
I, though clogged with human frame,
Sink upon the Woman-breasted
God of the unuttered Name;
And the shadows' poppied meadows
Burst and blossom into flame.
All that virgin is and comely,
All the heavenly and the homely
Mix and melt in spirit space;
While the passion that is soul,
Past the senses' brute control,
Dies and lives in His embrace.

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August 26 MY BELOVED

“I will seek him whom my soul loveth.”—Sol. Song iii. 2.

Still I can discern Him never
At the garish hour of noon,
Though I strive with all endeavour
For the Presence and the boon:
He is clouded and enshrouded
In the magic of the moon.
Yes, at winter time or vernal,
Does my Sweetheart the Eternal
God delight not in the day;
But when darkness drapes the light
With its mantle and its might,
He unfolds His perfect way.

Then, if stormy be the weather
Or a stillness and its charms,
Happily we live together
Tangled in each other's arms;
Sweetly married, softly carried
Into regions beyond harms.
And I drink the inspiration
Of unbosomed revelation,
Through my inmost life and blood;
At the secret fount of things,
Mystic joys and murmurings,
Bathed within the cosmic flood.

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August 27 FOR POWER

“Peter and John . . . prayed for them, that they might receive the Holy Ghost: . . . then laid they their hands on them, and they received the Holy Ghost.”—Acts viii. 14, 15, 17.

Prayer is the hand that toucheth Thine,
Dear Saviour, in our darkling road
And makes a garment all Divine
The meanest and the heaviest load;
And prayer it is that openeth wide
The choicer channels of Thy Day,
And pours into our hearts the tide
Of tender Love—then let us pray.

Prayer is the key unlocking all
The doors of Heaven we close by sin,
Which raiseth us from every fall
To find a stepping-stone therein;
And it is prayer that to our eyes
Unseals the wellsprings by the way,
And shows the near eternities
Around us all—then let us pray.

Prayer brings the Blessèd Spirit down
On hungry hearts or thirsty lands,
When they that wear the suffering crown
Of service lift up holy hands;
O it is prayer that strips the gloss
And glamour from our pleasures gay,
Unveils the Vision of the Cross
Our beacon Light—then let us pray.

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August 28 THE WINEPRESS

“I have trodden the winepress alone.”—Isa. lxiii. 3.

Who is this with blood-red raiment,
This that asketh no repayment
But the Cross and scourges rude;
He who, counting not Life dearer,
Cometh to His loved ones nearer,
Dreadful in His solitude?
It is He, whose royal dress
Is the robe of Righteousness.

Who is this that greatly travels
Deathward, and by death unravels
All the riddle of the years?
He who, asking no assistance,
Over even the Grave's resistance
Throws His Life above our fears?
He who, as upon a throne,
Walks the winepress thus alone.

Who is this, with garments sodden,
That untreasured yet hath trodden
By Himself the awful path?
Who on Calvary's grim foundation
Laid for ever our salvation,
And endured God's utmost wrath?
He who thereby made His own,
Sin He yet had never known.

281

August 29 WONDERFUL LOVE

“The love of Christ, which passeth knowledge.”—Eph. iii. 19.

It is too wonderful for me,
It is too wonderful to know,
That God, who made all Beauty be,
For us should still have suffered so.
He need not have created man
Nor put such glory in His plan,
For human eyes of joy to see;
That here we could yet higher grow
Than dust, whence this poor breath began

God might have moulded without will
A creature lacking power to bend,
Through the determined good or ill,
A jot from its appointed end.
Why did He lay the grandeur down
And set on us His very crown,
Or in our wealth His way fulfil?
He chose in darkness to descend,
Lest in our frailty we should drown.

God had enough, He could have been
For ever in His rapture lone,
Nor made the earth with gladness green
And clothed in grace the mossy stone;
He wanted nothing more, He stood
Possessed of all the great and good;
Nor dared one shadow step between
Him and the radiance of His Throne,
Until He bowed to Babyhood.

282

August 30 ALL GRACE

“Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, that ye through his poverty might be rich.”—2 Cor. viii. 9.

God needed us, to share with Him
The wonder of His works and Power;
And Love ran over thus the brim
In earthly dress and mortal dower;
And the great passion of His Heart
No longer then could live apart,
He took a place and portion dim
To lend a brightness to the flower,
And bid the stream in lustre start.

It was His vesture that He took
And twined on our most fragile frame,
That when the storms of winter shook
We might be covered with the same;
He spared no splendour which He wore,
To find us gems and precious ore;
He robbed Himself to deck each nook
Of ours and hide its naked shame,
And of the treasure stript His store.

He grudged us nothing, and He gave
The life-blood from His riven Breast,
And toiled for us a willing Slave
That we might always have the best.
Ah, still He loves these human ties,
And in the bed of suffering lies;
He is our Fellow in the grave
Nor misses any tear or test,
And with our weakness lives and dies.

283

August 31 DIVINE RESPONSIBILITIES

“Righteous art thou, O Lord, when I plead with thee: yet let me talk with thee of thy judgments.”—Jer. xii. 1.

Creator, let me talk with Thee a while,
And pardon this dim voice;
Thou gavest me a life of tear and smile,
Wherein I had no choice;
Thou hast not made me as a passing breath,
For joys uncertain and then certain death.

Creator, Thou hast fashioned me most weak
Of trembling flesh and nerves;
And with a heart, on which all passions wreak
Great wrongs, that often swerves;
Thou hast not meant my love to suffer so,
And when it fain were rising sink below.

Creator, I am but of brittle clay,
But that is wholly Thine;
I would respond to nothing but Thy sway,
Till I am all Divine;
Deal gently with me, for I sometimes tire,
Lest this poor vessel break within the fire.

Creator, let me humbly dare to plead,
And as Thy creature woo;
Though I would follow Thee where duties lead,
God hath His duties too;
Thou knowest what my inmost heart would be,
Complete Thy work, and let me hide in Thee.