The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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October 13
UNTO DEATH |
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The Prisoner of Love | ||
327
October 13 UNTO DEATH
“Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever.”—
Heb. xiii. 8.
“And therefore do I live and shall live on,
Self-martyred for My own,
Though new worlds rise and older worlds are gone,
Unhonoured and unknown.
And they that blindly fan My altar fire
Increase My awful joy,
And only add more fuel to desire—
The Love none may destroy.
For could I cease to suffer for a while
And hang this thorn-crowned Head,
The earth would weep, the skies no longer smile,
And God Himself were dead.
These nails are still the beauty of my pride,
The badges of my Power,
And in the virtue of My Bleeding Side
All natures fruit and flower.
The soldier's spear is yet the single rod
Wherewith I sway the lands,
I feel assured that I alone am God
But by these piercèd Hands.
And so in tortured minds or troubled flesh
I languish on My Cross,
And drain the cup of death to gather fresh
Divinity from loss.
In truth though frail and the most feeble trust,
That guides some wandering lamb
Sore wounded and bedraggled in the dust—
There if unseen I am.”
The Prisoner of Love | ||