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

If we like Christ would really live
And walk with Him the Blessèd Way,
We must be then content to give
Ourselves in service every day;
We must not stand aside and preach
Goodwill nor stay one sinner's fall,
But all be very true to each
And each a brother be of all.

If we would bear Christ's holy Cross
And enter fully in its power,
We must not measure gain or loss,
Or reckon suffering by the hour;
We must not count our travail much
And weigh the fancied worth of men,
Nor shrink away from lepers' touch—
God's palace is the lepers' pen.

If we like Christ would really love
And leave the world a better place,
We must not seek in light above
Alone, but in the dark, His Face;
We must hold every one as sweet
As if Himself and all His throne,
And when we wash a brother's feet
Think we are washing there His Own.

February 2 THE FULNESS OF CHRIST

“It pleased the Father that in him should all fulness dwell.”—Col. i. 19.

What, dost thou call me still to further stress,
Master of me,
And bid the fainting flesh yet deeper sink
Or wander in the dreadful wilderness?
Ah! every trial shall be but a link,
Holden from Thee.
Each new affliction only is fresh proof
Of boundless Love,
And though the bonds of Life's foundation part
Or Thy dear angels stand a while aloof,
In the abysses of despair, my heart
Soars most above.

Sweet Saviour, be it so, and up the ascent
Through testing flood
And flame of ordeal I go steadfast on,
Wearing the jewel of one fair intent,
Along the path Thy piercèd feet have gone
Even unto Blood;
Oh, thus I learn if but through many a loss
And altar stone,
By blighted faiths and broken works and wings;
And there I find beneath the shadowing Cross
The great preambles of all thoughts and things,
In Christ alone.

February 3 YE ARE THE SALT

“Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost its savour, wherewith shall it be salted?”—St. Matt. v. 13.

Scatter the salt in pining places,
Where leperous is the air and sick
And sin lies seared on pallid faces,
Where blood to lust alone is quick;
Scatter it broadcast, let the savour
Sink low in vicious slum or vault,
Let Christ give all your faith its flavour—
Ye are the Salt.

Scatter the salt in gracious giving
And grudge not any pain or loss,
Pour out your utmost love in living
That draws its greatness from the Cross;
Scatter it where the hearts are rotten
And grim corruption doth not halt,
Where trust is fled and joy forgotten,—
Ye are the Salt.

Scatter the salt with no delaying,
The children cry, the death-bell tolls
Out of the darkness and decaying—
The worm is at their very souls;
Scatter your best, your brightest hoping,
Stay not for conscious fear or fault
Though among graveyards work be groping—
Ye are the Salt.

February 4 TOUCH AND LIVE

“If I may but touch his garment, I shall be whole.”— St. Matt. ix. 21.

Life unto Life, it must be, in each part
And every little dower;
All must be by the altar of the heart
Kindled, and at the base of being start—
Before thy touch hath power;
Some ray of Heaven must in some act outshine,
And then this human will through the Divine
Break into blessèd flower.

Love unto Love, it must be, from the root
And bed-rock of all things;
For e'en the trembling of the timid shoot
Veils in its green the grace of boundless fruit,
A promise meet for kings;
And thou shalt never slake that holy thirst,
Who hast not brought thy pitcher at the first
To the great water-springs.

All unto All, it must be, bloom and stem,
Or leaves so idly born;
Thus wilt thou touch if only just Christ's hem,
And find in every scar a joyous gem,
A royal robe in scorn;
For of His blessèd Fulness He shall give
And bid thee in His Life and Beauty live,
Who takes Himself the thorn.

February 5 CRUCIFIED ONES

“They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.”—Gal. v. 24.

There are who have stooped very low
Down to the awful deeps, where grow
The primal roots and powers of things;
Who lived one long March-April day
That laughed and laughing yet would slay,
But might not break their angel wings.
These are the souls beneath the rod,
That live the likest to their God.

And they must ever wear the mark
Of love, that wrestled with the dark
And came at last to perfect morn;
The stigmata of awful strife,
Which carry through their loftier life
Christ's every nail and every thorn.
They died the death that never died,
The Passion of the Crucified.

But in their eyes the vision dread
That saw and past the burial bed,
Can never now quite wholly fade;
Its royal stamp, in each large line,
Ranks them with Presences Divine—
Not of our narrow earthly shade.
For they have truly seen and known,
And fought the foe and overthrown.

February 6 OUR PICTURE

“I am black, but comely.”—Sol. Song i. 5.

“I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.”— Ps. xvii. 15.

God giveth each a sketch to fill,
It may be but a little line
Or touch of colour here and there;
And we, alike through good and ill,
Must find the form to make Divine
And draw our colours—none knows where.
He drops a hope or leaves a hint,
We paint the final tone and tint.

Now links are lost and blurring shades
Then meet us, as we vainly try
At first the true design to see;
And, ere it's ours, the vision fades,
It follows all mortality—
The sentence laid on tower and tree.
In foolish means we fancy ends,
And unto nought our labour tends.

Until from idle stress and strife
We learn the lessons God would give,
The last and true and heavenly art;
Until we mix our paints with life
And bruise the colours that will live,
With blessed wounds and bleeding heart.
Then, if we bring the broken whole,
We find the picture with the soul.

February 7 CHRIST IN HIS CHURCH

The Antanaplerosis

“I .... fill up that which is behind (lacking) of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh for his body's sake, which is the church.”—Col. i. 23, 24.

“Why persecutest thou me?”—Acts ix. 4.

All the afflictions
Of martyrs and confessors and the saints,
And every pure white virgin soul that faints
Under the bondage and the bitter cup,
Are benedictions
And what the Master left man to fill up;
For but by trial
Each servant of the Holy Cross, who fain
Would live the very Life and die the pain
Of that great Death and never count its price,
Must in denial
Measure the glory of His Sacrifice.

There is no other
True path, whereby through the unending strife
Of flesh and spirit we attain to Life,
Than that of suffering and the daily loss
With Christ our Brother—
No power but that which cometh from the Cross;
The heart anointed
With sorrow, that has felt the fire's handgrip,
Through such learns something of the Fellowship
Which gathers God and sinners into one;
Our task appointed,
That leads to Light, can only thus be done.

February 8 ROD AND STAFF

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”—Ps. xxiii. 4.

Christ wrought the fulness
Of free Redemption, that doth nothing lack;
But we, His Body, treading in His track,
Shall bear the same blest nail and precious thorn,
The cloud's dread dulness,
And through His Grave be every hour reborn.
For that grand Passion
Yet in His Church goes on, and cannot fail
By one least thorn-prick or red print of nail,
And each true heart must be an altar sweet,
Though frail of fashion,
And each true mouth may kiss His wounded Feet.

Ours be the filling
Up of our Lord's afflictions with each breath,
Right to the brim of being and to death
In suffering service He doth daily need,
Though tears be spilling,
Or life and blood that are the Church's seed.
The sickness, sorrow,
Borne humbly and in patience as His rod
Will complement the very work of God,
And brings gold grain and purges earth from chaff;
Till, some bright morrow,
We find His chastening rod was but our staff.

February 9 LIGHT-BEARERS

“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”— St. Matt. v. 16.

Thy Truth is only, Lord, a trust
For me to take and carry on,
That when this body is but dust
The treasure too may not be gone;
But dwelling in a brother's heart
May fashion him new earth and sky,
And be a large and living part
Of all our great Humanity.

It is no good for me alone,
No private tool, no selfish toy,
But that whereon I may enthrone
A gentle universal joy;
A blessing for the common weal
That shall not pass or perish more,
But set as a Diviner seal
Mark what is pure and precious ore.

Father, I take the Light from Thee,
And kindle thus a brother's breast
With that eternal fire, till he
Finds in Thy Refuge only rest.
O let it shining from me give
The warmth and love that others lack,
And yet in future bosoms live
To beacon endless wanderers back.

February 10 THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE CROSS

“Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh for his body's sake, which is the church.”—Col. i. 24.

We who are Brothers of the Cross
And learnt the secret of the years
Passing to Light through bitter loss,
And plucked their blessing out of tears;
Who have renounced the hopes of flesh
And hail the persecutor's blow,
Happy by death to rise afresh—
We know.

Others may fancy they are wise
And think their fleeting pleasures much,
Pain is the door of Paradise
Which opens to Love's little touch;
O they may deem the world Divine
And to its lower fashion grow,
But we—whom blessèd fires refine—
We know.

Others may guess at ears of Truth
And reck not they are reaping wind,
While some poor sister even as Ruth
Is gleaning gold they drop behind;
They gather hoards of empty dross
And heap up chaff in idle show,
But we—the Brothers of the Cross—
We know.

February 11 LIFE BY DEATH

“Ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God.”— Col. iii. 3.

Life is no life, that never dies
And doth not daily offer up
Its all to Love that crucifies,
And daily holds the Passion cup;
Life is no life, that never gives
The sacrifice by which it lives.

Life is no life, that keepeth back
One little portion of the whole,
And fain would tread the Saviour's track
Nor render body, mind, and soul;
Life is not life, whose every breath
Is not renewed by constant death.

Life is no life, that fain would grudge
The offering of a nail or thorn,
And lets not Christ be also Judge
Of life that hourly is reborn;
Life is not life, unless it lie
Alway in Him who bids us die.

Life is no life, that dares to choose
Its sufferings and would measure ill,
And hath not fully learnt to lose
Itself in higher Love and Will.
Life is not life, except with Christ,
Kept at the Cross in ceaseless tryst.

February 12 CROSS-BEARERS

“I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live.”— Gal. ii. 20.

The Cross is not for Christ alone,
It stands on Calvary still for thee,
Dear brother, and will be a throne
Of power no eye did ever see.
Fear not; it looketh dread and dim,
And mortal flesh and blood may bow;
Remember, that it carried Him—
Go thou.

The Cross may come in many ways,
A sudden night, a rolling sea,
Or when aside sweet sorrow prays—
But each a little Christ must be;
The nails are blunted and the thorn,
Its grave is not so grievous now
Since it by Christ was greatly borne—
Die thou.

The Cross, dear brother, is not death—
But life for all who freely give
Themselves to God and hold each breath
Lost that for others doth not live;
Rejoice, if thou atonement art
In Christ for rebels' broken vow,
And in the piercing of thy heart
Live thou.

February 13 REVERENCE

“Honour all.”—1 St. Pet. ii. 17.

“Support the weak.”—1 Thess. v. 14.

Next to thy Master honour most
All helpless things, as He would do—
As if the Godhead thou would'st woo,
Kneeling at worship's solemn post;
Woman and child are Godlike too,
And bring us light like Pentecost;
For lo, behind their innocence
Lies Heaven's own dread Omnipotence.

There is an angel hid in all,
Responsive to the angel touch,
Yea, in the blackest soul is such;
And child and woman, though they fall,
We cannot reverence over-much—
We dare not slight their faintest call;
The dew of their sweet mortal dress,
Their frailty, is their loveliness.

Nay, under the unvirgin face
Unsexed by sin in every line
Till nought there longer live and shine,
Is still a higher heavenly trace;
For there is something even Divine,
Without a single human grace.
And, since the Saviour wore our flesh,
His Beauty is born in each afresh.

February 14 THE WORK OF SALVATION

“Whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it.”—St. Matt. xvi. 25.

Go thou and dig My Vineyard, there
For each one is a corner,
And My broad field is everywhere—
A place for even the scorner;
I cannot do thy task for thee,
I lay but the foundation,
And thou (if brother thou would'st be)
Must work out thy salvation.

Go thou, dear soul, and labour on
And bear thyself the burden,
For I this very road have gone
And am thy Guide and Guerdon;
I cannot take thy little part,
Though I be always willing,
Thou must bring first a faithful heart
Before Grace does the filling.

Go thou and gather in thy sheaf,
Ere falls the sere and yellow
Upon the fading autumn leaf,
And I will be thy Fellow;
Thy trust, thy toil I cannot bring,
Nor sorrow's bitter leaven,
Ah, give the whole burnt offering
And gain thyself and Heaven.

February 15 IN THE ORDER

“No end ... upon his kingdom, to order it, ... with judgment and with justice from henceforth even for ever.”—Isa. ix. 7.

O let me choose the winning part
Of order and eternal right,
One with the beating of God's heart,
One with the marching on of Light.
I do not need an earthly chart,
For against Thee I cannot fight.
Yea, when I do desert my post,
Thy Wisdom rules through error most.

O let me battle at Thy side
For faith and beauty, and the sweet
Which hometh even in Marah's tide
And in the mean and miry street.
Thy Goodness is so very wide,
Crowns kings, and washes beggars' feet.
And all things work together still,
The adverse storms, for Thy dear Will.

O let me own Thy loftier law,
Embrace the fetters, bless the rod,
And link my soul to larger awe
Which marks Divineness in the clod;
Until I see what Stephen saw,
And lose myself in Love and God.
Ah! lift me from this lower sky,
Father, to Thine Eternity.

February 16 WHOLE SERVICE

“Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.”—St. Matt. xxii. 37.

“A living sacrifice.”—Rom. xii. 1.

Dear Lord, Thou askest of me much,
The most tremendous task and price,
That I a sinner should give such
A boundlessness of sacrifice.
Thou bid'st me come to every call,
And sealèd with the Cross and sign'd
To offer Thee my very all—
My body and my soul and mind.

Ah! if Thou me hadst askèd less
The service never yet were done,
For of my utter littleness
I must surrender all or none.
It is because Thy claim is large
And nothing there excepted, Lord,
In the sheer greatness of the charge
I choose Thy Sweetness—if the sword.

For only Thou dost so possess
The right and might to take the whole,
And in Thine awful Loveliness
To use me, body, mind, and soul.
And thus with joy I freely cast
Myself, my will, my every breath
Upon the Love alone Thou hast,
For life and fuller life through death.

February 17 DIVINE FATHERHOOD

“After this manner pray ye: Our Father.”— St. Matt. vi. 9.

Father, I could not ever pray,
I could not stand where Jesus stood
And walk with Him the narrow way,
But for Thy Blessed Fatherhood.
'Tis this which makes me very bold
And life so lovely and so sweet,
That I may draw from Grace untold
And not lie only at Thy Feet.

Father, I may approach quite near
To find in Thee a perfect rest,
And Thou wilt wipe away each tear
When I am folded to Thy Breast.
'Tis this which gives me courage great
To do what else were darkly done,
And count as joy the hardest fate,
Because I am indeed Thy son.

Father, the earth would not look green
Nor were blue roses in the sky,
If this vast truth had never been,
Hadst Thou no Christian Family;
'Tis this which brings the rebel far
From Thee to pastures glad and good,
The very light of sun and star,
Thy grand and gracious Fatherhood.

Father, my Home is but in Thee,
Outside Thy Love I cannot go,
And by Thee only am I free
To serve Thee for this while below;
'Tis this which maketh life to live,
And setteth love upon its throne,
The sonship none but Thou canst give—
Always, through Jesus Christ alone.

February 18 A LITTLE

“Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones.”— St. Matt. xviii. 10.

“Who hath despised the day of small things?”—Zech. iv. 10.

A little love, a little faith,
A little sorrow for our sin,
From hearts that cherish Thee therein
Which otherwise were homes of death;
Father, Thou askest not for more,
Out of my basket and my store.

A little toil, a little tear
Dropt now and then upon the way,
When unto Thee I kneel and pray—
A little hope, a little fear;
Thou askest but a little shoot,
If in me be the living root.

A little knowledge of Thy Law,
A little purpose here or there
To sow the precious Promise where
Is not the light or holy awe;
Thou askest but a little deed,
If souls have yet the lasting seed.

A little time, a little touch
That helps a brother on the road,
Or eases an oppressive load—
A little praise for very much;
Father, not little do I bless
Thy Greatness to my littleness.

February 19 THE FREE SERVICE

“Free among the dead.”—Ps. lxxxviii. 5.

The arrow fettered is to fly,
The wing must carry weight to move,
And burdens to its kindred sky
Upraise the spirit that they prove;
I need both liberty and bond,
Broad spaces, and the blessed string,
To shape my path for worlds beyond
And claim my heritage as king.

The starving stone shall be my bread,
But lay me prostrate ere I rise;
The longest path, among my dead,
Yet leads me round to Paradise.
The weary brow, the wounded breast,
Shall feel the fretting of the thorn
And needs like nails, before the rest
Which opens to me gates of morn.

The trial shakes me but to shape;
I touch the heaven, if I kneel down;
And he, who lightly would escape
The furnace, loses too the crown.
The kingship I must make my own,
By many a bitter proof in all;
And I had never guessed or known
My greatness, till I found my fall.

February 20 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS

“All day long I have stretched forth my hands unto a disobedient and gainsaying people.”—Rom. x. 21.

Tell me the land where my Love dwelleth not;
There is no little spot,
Which from His altar doth not gather grace
(Some feature of God's Face)
And burn with reflex Glory; let it shine,
Till earth is all Divine,
And not one sinner wears a meaner dress
Than the white robe of Christ's own Righteousness.

Tell me the life where my Love suffers not
His crucifying lot,
And bears not still His beautiful dread load
Along our human road.
Ah, there is no least nook, however dim,
With sorrow not for Him;
No agony of others, not to be
Another garden of Gethsemane.

Tell me the heart where my Love hometh not—
Who would cleanse every spot;
O yet outside He standeth at the door,
To sweep the darkened floor,
And with His Blood to wash away each sin
That He may dwell within;
The earth is sick with waiting, till He come
To bring His brothers to His Heart and Home.

February 21 SELF-PUNISHED

“Cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life.”—Gen. iii. 17.

Dwell not too much thou on the riven parts
Although the fragments be most precious things,
God doth complete His work with broken hearts
And bruiseth to make whole;
For thus He frames, of shattered joys and wings,
Each crowned anointed soul.

Strive to see all as all and never doubt
In darkest chaos is a heavenly plan,
Divinity at last comes dazzling out
Even from thy blighted bit;
And in the grave lies promise of the man,
Serene and infinite.

O when thy life looks mutilated most
And peace has vanished from thy sight afar,
God is around thee like an armèd host
And campeth at thy side;
Then will the gates of Paradise unbar,
And windows open wide.

Thy very cry of loneliness so lost
And wandering weary in the noon of night,
Tells thee the gulf by Christ Himself is crost
To seek His wounded lamb;
It is the answer to thee of the Light,
“Belovèd, here I am!”

February 22 SOWING AND REAPING

“He that soweth iniquity shall reap vanity.”—Prov. xxii. 8.

God will not punish thee, He cannot thus
Out of His kindness hurt a single hair,
And He is punished daily still by us—
His Grace we crucify;
Our every step is but an Altar stair,
To some new Calvary.

It is thy sins that carry the stern rod
Of retribution, in a Father's care
Is nothing of a grim avenging God,
But pure and boundless Love;
Each suffering calls thee to a heavenly share,
And title writ above.

Ah, it is evil in thee all at strife
With better thoughts and higher hopes that lay
Stern strokes and burdens on a fruitless life,
In utter Mercy's law;
For thou dost only pierce thyself and slay,
And to thy birthright draw.

But in thy sorrow Christ must sorrow yet
Far more, and He is stricken with thy stain,
But O His Hand doth on thy ways beset
Troubles that round thee hang;
His bleeding Breast comes between thee and pain,
And blunts its every pang.

February 23 BREAKING BREAD

“And they told what things were done in the way, and how he was known of them in breaking of bread.”—St. Luke xxiv. 35.

In the Breaking of the Bread,
In the pleading of our prayers,
Lift, O lift Thy risen Head
On our hearts, though unawares;
From the grave-clothes and the sorrow,
Lift us to the sun-bright morrow.

Jesus, make Thy Presence known
Now while we awake in faith,
Give Thyself unto Thine own
In the Life that conquers death;
Broaden out our weak affection,
To the breadth of Resurrection.

In the Breaking of the Bread,
In the pouring of the wine,
May we with Thy Fulness fed
Draw within us Strength Divine;
Raise the falling, rouse the sleeper,
With Thy depths O make us deeper.

Jesus, grant each hungry soul
What no other giveth thus,
And by breaking make us whole
As Thou broken wast for us;
Yea, enlarge us, to the measure
Of Thine own exceeding Treasure.

February 24 ONE FATHER

“Now, O Lord, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand.”— Isa. lxiv. 8.

One Father made the man and beast
To do their duty at His call,
And biddeth both unto the feast
Which His great Mercy spreads for all;
Though the dumb creatures that He wrought
The least upon this earthly stem,
Seem to us wasted life or nought—
Omnipotence still needeth them.

One Father watches over us
And folds the insect in His reach,
The world and worm are guarded thus
And the same Wisdom works in each;
Though many are but things of dust,
They hide within His mantle's hem,
And lift to Heaven their little trust—
Omnipotence still needeth them.

One Father fashions beast and man
And keeps with either faithful troth,
Alike they enter in His Plan,
And the same Mercy shelters both;
O not the smallest wing that waves
But gives His crown a separate gem,
And though some creatures drudge as slaves
Omnipotence still needeth them.

February 25 THE JOY OF THE CROSS

“Jesus, ... who for the joy that was set before him endurea the cross, despising the shame.”—Heb. xii. 2.

Sorrow and joy were never twain,
And both at one great Fountain start—
They cannot, do not dwell apart;
For gladness is baptized in pain,
Both rise in Jesu's broken Heart,
And they but die to live again.
The Cross must be our larger choice,
If we for ever would rejoice.

They grow upon one gracious stem,
For only smiles interpret tears
And hope were fruitless without fears;
Doubt leadeth faith to Jesu's hem,
His robe of Righteousness, and spears
Of thorn are in His diadem.
Love seeks the jewels, but it fails
Unless it first has felt the nails.

And now, with every deed, I prove
In life and death a common chord;
The Cross reveals the holy Word,
And with each footstep doth it move—
The very Shadow of my Lord,
The living Sunshine of my Love.
Unless I lie within His grave,
Not even Omnipotence can save.

February 26 ONLY LOVE

“The kingdom and patience of Jesus Christ.”—Rev. i. 9.

Only Love knows how to suffer,
Only Love knows how to die;
Therefore Love can live, though rougher
Passions still around it lie;
Therefore Love, whate'er the bringing
Brought by time, goes forth with singing.

Love is patient, though our flighty
Fancies oft lead us astray;
Love is meek and love is mighty,
In Divinity's delay;
Till, in Truth and Mercy meeting,
Dawns the one white Grace's greeting.

Love, although its tasks be doubled
Daily on the upward road,
Never can be over-troubled
Or refuse the heaviest load;
Love demands but, for its guerdons,
Less of bliss and more of burdens.

Love is very wise and only
Learns to do the righteous thing,
Love is never tired or lonely,
And through winter keeps the spring;
Heaven, which opens to the lover,
Reason cannot yet discover.

February 27 LIVING THE LIFE

“Seek ye me, and ye shall live.”—Amos v. 4.

Live always as before thy God
Do every deed as if thy last,
And thou shalt find the common clod
Glow like the heaven and like it vast;
And Heaven shall haunt thy very feet,
More homely than thy native street.

Seek only what is great and good,
Nor stop at lower than the best,
And ask not to be understood
But in thy daily service blest;
And if thou doest nothing mean,
Then nothing thine will be unclean.

Speak as if in the very Shrine
And Presence of the Holy One,
So thou thyself shalt wax Divine
And all thy work be wisely done;
Thy house will be of precious stone,
The ante-chamber to God's Throne.

Aim not at happiness for thee
But others, and count labour lost
Which has not set some brother free
And borne for him the final cost;
Let love, that holds the humblest place,
See in the vilest Jesu's Face.

February 28 KNOCKING

“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me.”—Rev. iii. 20.

Thou comest to me like a thief,
Thou comest in the hush of night,
To rob my soul of sapping grief
And rest me with a pure relief—
To give me something more than sight;
O glorious Eavesdropper, Thou art
Behind the door of every heart.

I would not banish from its throne
Thy Presence, which is all my power,
Nor take instead an earthlier tone
Where Thou must reign and rule alone—
I dare not hold Thee from Thy dower;
But, Saviour, when Thou knockest, give
This dying love the strength to live.

And ere I open let me sweep
Each chamber ready for its King,
Meet for a Guardian who will keep
My foolish mind from sluggard sleep,
And strew the floors with flowers of spring;
Thou, who didst purge the temple clean,
Think not my little house too mean.

Knock gently, that I may not fear
To know Thou art so very nigh;
So every sense will be an ear,
And all my heart awaking hear—
Attuned to Thee, and raised as high;
Then hide me in Thy Greatness, Lord,
Although it slay me like a sword.

February 29 THE LARGER HOPE

“God our Saviour; who will have all men to be saved.”— 1 Tim. ii. 3, 4.

Hope lifts us out of petty ruts,
And opens wide the heavenly gate
Which earthly care so blindly shuts,
And makes us masters of our fate;
It shows the larger view of things,
And looks before and after both,
Until we stand as crownèd kings
And beat down Bel and Ashtaroth.

It raiseth, Father, men to Thee
As peers in Thine own glorious pride,
With its enfranchisements as free
And partners seated at Thy side.
Whence we may mark the orbèd end
Obscured by many a shade and shoal,
And see how Thy creations tend
To their predestined happy goal.

Behold all creatures gathered in
Out of a thousand thousand lands
In other distant worlds, to win
The benediction of Thy Hand;
And at the supreme final close
One family in bliss to be,
If some at first but darkly chose
A path that dimly led to Thee.