The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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December 10
TO-MORROW |
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The Prisoner of Love | ||
391
December 10 TO-MORROW
“Go to now, ye that say, To day or to morrow we will . . .
Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow.”—
St. James iv. 13, 14.
To-morrow shall my hand repair
The breaches in this house of dust,
When doubt is growing to despair
And I have nought whereon to trust?
The breaches in this house of dust,
When doubt is growing to despair
And I have nought whereon to trust?
To-morrow, did the Master say,
Come to me or whene'er thou wilt,
And do not trouble if to-day
Is burdened by a crushing guilt?
Come to me or whene'er thou wilt,
And do not trouble if to-day
Is burdened by a crushing guilt?
To-morrow shall I ask for grief
The comfort which is offered now,
Or take for sickness the relief
Which then no Mercy may allow?
The comfort which is offered now,
Or take for sickness the relief
Which then no Mercy may allow?
To-morrow shall I fly the doom
Which overshadows all my way,
And breeds within a greater gloom,
When pardon comes to me to-day?
Which overshadows all my way,
And breeds within a greater gloom,
When pardon comes to me to-day?
To-morrow shall I hope for life
When death is knocking at my heart,
And earth and heaven itself seem rife
With judgment that will not depart?
When death is knocking at my heart,
And earth and heaven itself seem rife
With judgment that will not depart?
To-morrow shall I take the Hand
Outstretched to be my strength and stay,
And then wash off the bitter brand
When Love were cleansing me to-day?
Outstretched to be my strength and stay,
And then wash off the bitter brand
When Love were cleansing me to-day?
The Prisoner of Love | ||