The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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January 16
THE WAY OF THE CROSS |
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 | The Prisoner of Love |  |
20
January 16 THE WAY OF THE CROSS
“Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot
be my disciple.”—St. Luke xiv. 27.
He who would follow Me, must give
Body and soul and mind
And all, if he would truly live—
Nor turn a look behind;
He must not keep one treasure back,
To be my servant now
And walk with Me the lonely track—
Dost thou?
Body and soul and mind
And all, if he would truly live—
Nor turn a look behind;
He must not keep one treasure back,
To be my servant now
And walk with Me the lonely track—
Dost thou?
He must surrender child and wife,
At need, whate'er I crave,
And with the roses of this life
Cast them into My Grave;
He must spare nothing that is dear,
No tenderest tie or vow
Which sunders him from Love more near—
Hast thou?
At need, whate'er I crave,
And with the roses of this life
Cast them into My Grave;
He must spare nothing that is dear,
No tenderest tie or vow
Which sunders him from Love more near—
Hast thou?
He must lay fortune at My Feet
And friends and every good,
If he would thus be not unmeet
For my pale Brotherhood;
He must not grudge the grinding cares
Which sickly soon the brow,
Nor weigh the cost the Martyr dares—
Canst thou?
And friends and every good,
If he would thus be not unmeet
For my pale Brotherhood;
He must not grudge the grinding cares
Which sickly soon the brow,
Nor weigh the cost the Martyr dares—
Canst thou?
21
He who would make his Master known
And bear the blessèd Cross,
Must never call a thing his own
Nor measure pain and loss.
He must be piercèd with My thorn,
And breaking yet not bow
Beneath the burden I have borne—
Wilt thou?
And bear the blessèd Cross,
Must never call a thing his own
Nor measure pain and loss.
He must be piercèd with My thorn,
And breaking yet not bow
Beneath the burden I have borne—
Wilt thou?
He must not hold the earthly strong
Nor deem the Heavenly slight,
But gladly suffer shame and wrong
With darkness as his light;
He must be always offering up
His best nor heedful how,
And drain with Me the deathly cup—
Art thou?
Nor deem the Heavenly slight,
But gladly suffer shame and wrong
With darkness as his light;
He must be always offering up
His best nor heedful how,
And drain with Me the deathly cup—
Art thou?
| The Prisoner of Love | |