The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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February 28
KNOCKING |
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The Prisoner of Love | ||
67
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.
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.
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.
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.
68
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.
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.
The Prisoner of Love | ||