The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
 |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
|
| 1. |
December 1
MARAH AND SILOAM |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
 | The Prisoner of Love |  |
382
December 1 MARAH AND SILOAM
“They could not drink of the waters of Marah, for they were
bitter: . . . What shall we drink? . . . And the Lord
shewed him a tree, . . . the waters were made sweet.”—
Exod. xv. 23–25.
They stand together side by side
As they for ever thus have stood,
The bitter and the cleansing tide
In blessèd mystic brotherhood;
And he that taketh of the sweet,
First in the other washed his feet.
As they for ever thus have stood,
The bitter and the cleansing tide
In blessèd mystic brotherhood;
And he that taketh of the sweet,
First in the other washed his feet.
We would leave Marah by the way
And lose the healing fount of tears,
But none may serve his little day
Who hath not been baptized in fears;
And would we miss the dreadful cup,
When Christ in Mercy holds it up?
And lose the healing fount of tears,
But none may serve his little day
Who hath not been baptized in fears;
And would we miss the dreadful cup,
When Christ in Mercy holds it up?
Siloam could not seem so dear
Nor be so beautiful to drink,
Had Marah not been always near
And we not tasted at its brink;
The life would lack its very breath,
Did we not enter it by death.
Nor be so beautiful to drink,
Had Marah not been always near
And we not tasted at its brink;
The life would lack its very breath,
Did we not enter it by death.
O precious Saviour, Thou art still
Our Portion—we will have no less;
A saving Presence from each ill,
A wellspring in the wilderness;
With Thee we rise through Marah's grave,
To win Siloam's quickening wave.
Our Portion—we will have no less;
A saving Presence from each ill,
A wellspring in the wilderness;
With Thee we rise through Marah's grave,
To win Siloam's quickening wave.
| The Prisoner of Love | |