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

God tries us long in many ways
And tosses to and fro,
Because He loves us so;
And therefore the sweet saint, that prays,
Hangs on His cross below;
He leaves us in the lonely places,
And shuts us out from gifts and graces,
Because He loves us so.

God strips us often, stark and nude,
With purgatorial touch,
Because He loves us much;
The humblest hearts in solitude,
He binds and blesses such;
We find our Heaven in lonely places,
And there His truth cuts deepest traces,
Because He loves us much.

God bids our health and comforts fly,
And bounties man might boast,
Because He loves us most;
He makes us feel mortality,
And wants an armèd host;
He lets us thirst in lonely places
To lift the soul He thus abases,
Because He loves us most.

March 2 ANGEL VISITS

“The Angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless.”— Gen. xlviii. 16.

God sends an angel sometimes down
Veilèd in form of ill,
Because He loves us still;
He lays upon our head a crown
Of thorns, His holy will;
But there is light in lonely places
More than in monarchs' splendid spaces,
Because He loves us still.

God lets us often faint and fail
Or sound some grievous hell,
Because He loves us well;
He driveth home Christ's every nail,
And rings the passing bell;
He leadeth best in lonely places,
And bids us move to mourner's paces,
Because He loves us well.

God heaps upon us burdens yet
Though we beneath them fall,
Because He loves us all;
His dearest doth He lower set,
At fast not festival;
He proves our trust in lonely places
Apart with death and its embraces,
Because He loves us all.

March 3 ORDEAL OF FIRE

“It shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is.”—1 Cor. iii. 13.

“He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver.”— Mal. iii. 3.

God willeth us to pass through fire
And keepeth those who do,
Because He dwells there too;
And purges in the flames desire,
For souls His mercies woo;
We win His love in lonely places
Though far from old and friendly faces,
Because He dwells there too.

God launcheth us out in the deep
To swim His Jordan swell,
Because He there doth dwell;
But He who loves us never sleeps,
And with Him all is well:
He bids us stand in lonely places
Though fruit with thorn He interlaces,
Because He there doth dwell.

God bids us offer with our blood
Service nought else can teach,
Because He dwells with each;
And life, save taken at the flood,
Hath not a royal reach;
He sets the Cross in lonely places
And sorrows with the suffering races,
Because He dwells in each.

March 4 THE TWO OFFERS

“If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts ... how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?”—St. Matt. vii. 11.

I asked for Calvary—they offered ease,
Success, and all the softer joys
Of sheltered life, that only asks to please
Itself with pretty times and toys;
I could have borne the brunt of iron woes,
But not the Judas hand of friendly foes
That decks with kisses and destroys.

But there are summits that the soul must reach,
Although through bitter leagues of loss
And years that learn in trouble what they teach,
Above the waves that weep and toss;
Here only is the ever-flowing Fount,
This (where broods ever morning) is the Mount
O'ershadowed by an awful Cross.

The watershed of the two worlds is here,
The threshold and dividing line;
One rests in cloud and misty atmosphere,
One holds and keeps the rainbow shine.
The sound of Sunday bells, a flame-like flower,
A glimpse of blue, a broken chord, have power
Here to reveal the Truth Divine.

But I must be an exile, Lord, as Thou—
'Mid others whom I seek to save,
And wear Thy thorns upon a piercèd brow
Ere I enjoy the grace I crave;
But if an outcast in the pomp and pride
Of earth that thrusts me to Thy riven Side,
I shall meet Angels at Thy Grave.

March 5 TO AND FROM CALVARY

“Thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive.”—Ps. lxxxvi. 5.

“Their sins and their iniquities will I remember no more.”— Heb. viii. 12.

I turn to Calvary, and see
My Love there crucified for me—
Ah, bitter shame! Ah, blessed woe!
The Friend of each—however mean,
Or very outcast or unclean—
Dying for man His mortal foe.
I hear from those dear trembling Lips
World-music for the lost and low,
The words that death cannot eclipse,
“Father, forgive—they do not know.”

I turn from Calvary and find
So little Christ in human kind,
So much of lust and cruel greed;
The sinner's Cross with all its pangs
Is everywhere, but on it hangs
The Saviour still in utter need.
My guilty hand which never fails
To glean from pleasures passing by
Some comfort, yet drives home the nails
In Him and helps to crucify.

Forgive, dear Lord, my every sin—
My pride, the peace that would begin
But hath already feared and flown;

Forgive the greatness of my debt,
The selfish seeking, and forget
The goodness that might well have grown.
Forgive my faith—if faith at all,
Only from seed that Thou hast sown;
Forgive my love which is so small,
And make it boundless in Thine own.

March 6 MERCY'S BOUND

“Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life.”—St. John vi. 68.

When on the stormy straits of life
The bearings of my faith seem lost,
And darkness is my light, and still
Without a compass I am tost;
If fears arise and doubts are rife,
Dear Saviour, rest me on Thy Will;
That I may feel, though wandering far,
Thy mercy is my bound and bar.

And O if errors wax too sweet,
Or other dazzling lures rise up
Betwixt me and Thy constant Love
Which yet doth drink affliction's cup;
In cloistered lot or lonelier street,
May I then hear Thy Voice above;
For only Thy most gracious Word
Stirs every heart, and strikes each chord.

Ah, save me from myself, and hold
These arms that grasp at shadows vain,
Forgetting pleasures quickly tire—
Just to avoid Thy blessèd pain;
Bid me remember I am gold
For Thee, and must endure the fire.
Refine and mould me to Thy Hand,
That in Thy strengthening I may stand.

March 7 NULLA CRUX, O QUANTA CRUX

“If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.”—St. Luke ix. 23.

They that plant the seed of sorrow
In the shadow of to-day,
Yet shall reap in joy to-morrow
Corn the richer for delay.
Man that goeth forth and weepeth
Bearing thoughts like precious things,
True to faith that still he keepeth,
Mounts at last on angel wings.
Love, that waits till autumn leaves,
Then shall gather in the sheaves.

Dropping hopes we climb to stature
Strong and stately as the tree,
And by dreadful deeps the nature
Grows that is erect and free;
Missing much, we gain far better
Than we ever dreamed before;
Yea, the bondage of the letter
Breaks, our birthright to restore.
Love, that watches by the tomb,
Sees new worlds within its womb.

He whose life is safe from losses,
Shielded from the lash of scorn,
Bears the greatest cross of crosses—
If no cross is ever borne.

He shall garner not the sweetness
Which is only won at length
Out of gloom, and that completeness
In the furnace wrought to strength.
Love is earth without a sky
When it has no Calvary.

March 8 THE PERPETUAL OFFERING

“It is expedient ... that one man should die for the people.”—St. John xi. 50.

Deem not, poor sinner, that I died
Once only for the world and thee;
My Love was daily crucified,
Ere any bond-slave could be free;
I suffered sore and long, before
A single rebel came to Me.

Golgotha was but the last link
In martyrdoms I hourly bare,
Whose every step was on the brink
Of death and yet more killing care;
No cruel thorn or carking scorn,
No shadow, which I did not share.

Deem not that any words or deeds
Which flowed from Mercy knew no cost,
And thoughts that bloomed in blessèd creeds
Had no dread Passion to be crost;
Thy every gain was through My pain,
And all but sorrow's nails I lost.

Each miracle was dearly paid
By trials that thou canst not guess,
And I who grudged no creature aid
Found none in Mine own awful stress;
I lived and died, I was denied
By each, in utter loneliness,

Nor deem I do not suffer now,
If I on earth no longer pine
For love and meet the broken vow
That others made—that still is thine;
My outstretched hands, in all the lands,
Are pierced as once in Palestine.

March 9 EARLY HOLY COMMUNION

“Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my Body.”—St. Matt. xxvi. 26.

Before I mingle with the cares,
The burdens, and the busy strife
Which Christ the Worker with me shares,
That nought may common be in life;
I would not walk except with Him
Who on this way before us went,
And made the gloom with glory swim—
I come to this High Sacrament.

In humble faith and grief for sin
Committed though I knew the right,
I would this day in Him begin
Who only is my Life and Light.
For none but He can truly feed
My inmost soul and sanctify,
And breathe through all my earthly need
The blessings of eternity.

Lord, Thou wast broken for my sake
To form me with Thy Body whole,
And of that Death if I partake
My love shall find its native pole.
Ah, though I were the very least
For whom Thy Table now is spread,
Yet am I welcome at the Feast—
O be Thou still my Daily Bread.

March 10 THE SHADOW OF THE CROSS

“That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death.”—Phil. iii. 10.

Thy sheltering shadow rests on me
And wraps us both within one veil,
Dear Saviour, whom in all I see—
When other visions fade and fail;
Joy without sorrow were not joy,
It needs the shadow to be true,
And would with utter sweetness cloy
Unless some clouds were in the blue;
It asks for a redeeming tear,
For Heaven and hell are very near.

But Thine is such a perfect store,
And Thou dost freely pour it out,
While still the sadness goes before
And faith is strengthened by the doubt.
Yet, ah! the dawnrise that I guess
And dimly track through life and loss,
Is light of Thy dread Loveliness
And wears the jewels of the Cross.
Those radiant fetters beam from far,
Our Morning and our Evening star.

I am not even sure of self,
Nor of the little things so nigh—
The broken vase upon the shelf,
The tale betwixt a laugh and sigh;

But I am certain of Thy Love
With mighty thoughts that move the globe,
And I may like a homing dove
Nest in Thy Bosom 'neath Thy robe;
Yea, I do have a living part,
In Thee and in Thy bleeding Heart.

March 11 LESS THAN NOTHING

“As having nothing, and yet possessing all things.”— 2 Cor. vi. 10.

Though less than nothing in Thy sight
Yet I am richer than I know,
And share a destiny of light
With Thee beyond the winds that blow;
Whate'er I touch will pale and pass,
The solid ground is crumbling dust
And worlds no more than summer grass,
But from their graves shall blossom trust.
There may be earth, but Heaven must be,
Because in all I see but Thee.

The nearer realms that round me lie
Are not so very close and sweet,
As those that with a spirit tie
Do bind me to Thy Blessèd Feet;
For there are awful secret links,
Which in the heart's shy chamber shine
Beyond the stars, and he who thinks
His all in God will wax Divine.
Aye, as in prayer and praise I speak,
I stand on His own mountain peak.

The ocean, Lord, is wide and grand,
But Love is deeper and more large,
And while I look its heavenly land
Spreads out in spaces without marge.

And I have proved Thy kingdom here,
Within me, is more bright and great;
It drowns in glory every sphere,
Out-dazzled by my soul's estate.
For, in my Saviour, I have found
Music to which the spheres go round.

I know my sorrow is Thy dress,
The nails are but the living proof
Thy hourly mercies on me press—
The Cross and shadow are my roof;
These thorns are badges of my rank
And sonship, ornaments that fill
This lot with beauty which were blank,
If tuned not to Thy blessèd Will;
I cannot fly, I cannot fall,
Save on and unto Thee in all.

March 12 LOSING AND SAVING

“Fear not: jor they that be with us are more than they that be with them.”—2 Kings vi. 16.

O if we always love the good,
Yet stand upon the losing side
Where martyrs have before us stood,
And scorn the vulgar baits of pride;
Then shall we never know retreat,
Though suffering wrong and sore defeat.

If we still walk the narrow way
And stumble on the cruel stone,
Which telleth us to pause and pray,
While pilgrims are we left alone;
When we seem vanquished in the fight,
We must be victors for the right.

If we have not a helper near
And danger daily hems us round,
While everywhere some foe or fear
Encroacheth on our holiest ground;
Ah, though we suffer grimly thus,
The awful odds are yet with us.

If Heaven looks veiled and shadows fall
Upon the heart and cloud the sight,
Or weakness garrisons our wall
And darkness is the only light;
Though drifting hopeless with the tide,
We must be winners on God's side.

March 13 PASSION AND PALM

“This is thankworthy, if a man for conscience toward God endure grief, suffering wrongfully.”—1 St. Pet. ii. 19.

Truth is not, cannot be, that has not stood
First at the very Cross and garnered thence
Something of that great Universal Good,
And grasped as ours God's own Omnipotence;
Who has not wept with Mary, nor still weeps,
Renewing thus his daily strength and youth,
Shall never drink of those Eternal Deeps
Where dwelleth only Truth.

O if we fain would feel the inmost heart
And hunger of the soul that moves towards God,
Then must we seek it in no pampered part,
But under the kind refuge of the rod;
If thou would'st gain the treasure beyond price,
It lurks not in the shallows of the flood
Nor at the shore, but in the sacrifice
Poured out of precious blood.

For faith must wrestle with the dark and doubt
And fight for blessing on the ocean ways,
Stricken by storms to draw divinely out
Knowledge, though while illuming us it slays;
But if we want the wings that heavenward fly
And love that is the world's redeeming breath,
We shall be taught alone at Calvary
To conquer is by death.

Ah, we shall never make the world our own,
And God's footstool ere we have given it up—
Unless we gather where our Lord hath sown
And drink ourselves of His sweet-bitter cup;
Till we do tread His solitary road
By glorious steps of struggling and of pain,
And faint with Him beneath the awful load
Christlike to rise again.

March 14 NAIL PRINTS

“Bear ye one another's burdens.”—Gal. vi. 2.

“In his hands the print of the nails.”—St. John xx. 25.

O we must learn that but in vanquished ill
We raise a throne to have in Heaven its part,
And only thus the Master may fulfil
Himself as Servant in the suffering heart;
The ragged side of work, the loose rough ends
And broken pieces He will bless who can,
They bind us to His nails, and thus He bends
Us to His perfect plan.

The work is His, the passion too He takes
And empties of the anguish and the sting,
For by the crown of thorns alone He makes
Through royal cares the subject also king;
And He who knows our labours' other side,
Through which to grace the task has dimly grown,
Kisses the knots and blots, and stoops to hide
Within His wounds our own.

The blemishes, the failures, as we deem,
Transfigured by His Love put on a dress
Divinely fair, and to His Mercy seem
The one true touch of final Loveliness;
Each erring stitch assumes a precious mark,
Print of the very Cross that Jesus bore,
And where our silent tears fell in the dark
He finds His jewelled store.

It's Easter somewhere always, if we would,
And if we saw the Resurrection light,
The very grave is by that witness good
And every wrong at last eternal right;
Yea, and the scars on scathèd breast and brow
Themselves proclaim our Easter bliss and balm,
And prove in pressing benediction now
The Passion is the Palm.

March 15 THE SERVICE OF SUFFERING

“The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.”— Rom. viii. 18.

Bring forth the royal robe of fire,
Bring here the crown of thorn,
Drive home the nails that crush desire
And pangs that I have borne;
Dear child, I cannot give thee less
Than was My lovely Loneliness.

Put on the jewels that are pain
And do forbid thee rest,
O let the altar knife again
Stab on and through the breast;
I could not honour weakness more,
Than with the sufferings that I wore.

Cast out the craven doubt and fear
That tamper with My Truth,
And bare thy heart unto the spear
That sharpens upon youth;
Dear child, thou could'st not offer less
Than life with all its wilfulness.

Put off pretence that apes the whole,
Self-righteous rags of shame,
And let Me burn into thy soul
My Love with purging flame;
I seek thy fulness, but not more
Than I so freely gave before.

March 16 THE ASCENSION WAY

“Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? . . . He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart.”—Ps. xxiv. 3, 4.

Not this the way, the flowery track,
If thou would'st witness to the end
Or like the Saviour not look back,
And with Him too in heart ascend;
Count not the playthings thou may'st lack,
Nor fear with foemen to contend.
The way, dear Master, unto Thee
Lies through the grey Gethsemane.

Not this the way, by pleasant fields
And many a bright and murmuring fount,
Where pleasure all its harvest yields,
Up to the calm Ascension Mount;
With broken swords and battered shields,
Not gold, we swell our sweet account.
And those, that pay no battle debt,
Will never rise to Olivet.

Not this the way, as others go—
The many moved by worldly will,
Who seek the upper springs below
And peace with passions never still;
No mocking shade, no passing show,
For hearts that God himself must fill.
The tops of Truth, the broader sky,
Are only reached from Calvary.

March 17 MY HEART'S DESIRE

“Brethren, my heart's desire and prayer to God for Israel is, that they might be saved.”—Rom. x. 1.

Lord, I would pray! My heart's desire
Is just to commune now with Thee,
And clothed in faith's own fair attire
To find what prophets could not see;
I would ascend, I do aspire,
O breathe Thy Spirit into me.
If I unburden every care,
Thou wilt in each have larger share.

I would be very much alone
With Thee and this frail human heart,
And then Thy Presence there enthrone
From all my worldly ways apart;
Thy Love for losses will atone,
When I behold Thee as Thou art.
Secrets I whisper in Thine ear,
Thou wilt hold sacred and most dear.

Lord, I would step aside from toil
And trouble that I yet must meet,
I ask Thy Peace and better spoil
Than gained in busy mart or street;
May earth now be all holy soil,
And with Thy Glory blest and sweet.
Whate'er in Thee I do or dare,
Let my whole life be Praise and Prayer.

March 18 ORO, LABORO

“That our God would count you worthy of this calling, and fulfil all the good pleasure of his goodness, and the work of faith with power.”—2 Thess. i. 11.

Oro, laboro, is my simple creed,
And nothing less;
For did no future fall to us indeed,
And could our little life of care stop short,
Or we go down for ever when in port
After sore stress;
Then man were greater even than God by Love,
And man above.

Clothed in the armour of an iron grief,
Christ's very own,
Tender as tears and still my best relief;
I rise, on stairs of sorrow, higher yet
Calmly without a fear, without regret,
To worlds unknown;
Except that He is with me to the end,
Saviour and Friend.

Oro, laboro! Restless as the earth
This human trust,
And restful as the heaven in dawn's new birth
When one blue rose of pure and perfect light,
While every sense is one immediate sight,
Conquers and must;
This would, though heaven were blotted out with pain,
Form it again.

Higher and higher still I step, if faith
At times despond;
And many an ancient landmark like a wraith
Melts (as I move) a portion yet of all,
And dear old boundaries are although they fall
New skies beyond;
Pain upon pain my stairs, but each a throne
And stepping stone.

March 19 WORSHIP OF WORK

“Remembering without ceasing your work of faith, and labour of love.”—1 Thess. i. 3.

Oro, laboro! Doubt itself finds place,
Darkness its room;
For he who once hath seen Truth's unveiled face
Looketh on God, and fear keeps too in chime
Ever with trust and only waits its time
Of coming bloom;
Grim barriers shelter, and do not confine,
Growth if Divine.

Surely to rise and feel nought comes amiss,
Loss upon loss;
Knowing the burden is our greatest bliss,
To see Redemption grandly working thus
Christ's Blessèd Passion alway still in us,
Cross over cross;
What vaster hope, though storms in fury strike,
Or more Godlike?

Oro, laboro! Never did such dream
As saving Fact,
Kindle the world with its transfiguring gleam;
As this that fashions out of holy grief
Temples and towers, our chosen grace and chief
Glory in act;
To climb up ever, on each ache and ill,
Ascending still!

This is God's measure, this His scale of worth,
Pang upon pang;
Nature fights with us and the travailing earth
That takes from suffering blossom fair and dew,
Transformed by woe, and on this do the new
Creations hang;
For what is any sorrow, but the glove
Of infinite Love?

March 20 LABOUR OF LOVE

“Faith which worketh by love.”—Gal. v. 6.

Oro, laboro! Freedom is no gift,
For gallant strife;
It comes to souls that just in Christ uplift
Themselves and seek no wage of triumph won,
But see and do the duty to be done,
Living the life;
Nor man nor God Himself can this bestow,
It must upgrow.

We move among the eternities, the loves,
The faiths and fears;
Glimpsed at their splendid moments even as doves
White on the blue of the unfathomed deep,
Those flying visions pure, softer than sleep,
Sweeter than tears;
Betwixt two worlds we stand, but dwells my heart
With Christ apart.

Oro, laboro! Now the prisoning bars
Take other shape:
They are but bridges leading to the stars,
Custodians kind that draw with closer bond
Man unto man and heaven and all, beyond
One soul's escape;
I cannot lift a hand, beneath the rod,
Not touching God.

100

The pains beat out the music, and not thought
Though above fate;
Anguish that shuts us in as nought can do
Is but the shadow of God, and shuts in too
Christ at His Fulness, and His sufferings seal
Not separate;
He wears with us that crown, for ever worn,
Of blessèd thorn.

101

March 21 SELF-REVERENCE

“Thou God seest me.”—Gen. xvi. 13.

Tempt me no more, I will do nothing mean
Or common or unclean;
I will be reverent to myself and go
With stately step, if low,
About my little empire, as though all
Worlds did upon me lean;
I will be royal, even if none may know,
And answer like a king whatever call.
Yea, not a word or work of mine but shall
Keep holy festival,
With heavenly Powers in me and that great Love
Yet not alone above;
But in the humblest mind and home as well,
And down to deepest hell.

The hidden side of me none sees but I
Myself and the Most High,
That will I chisel with the choicest art
In any unnoticed part
Beyond the gaze of man, a shrine to make
Where angels may draw nigh;
The secret cloisters of the human heart,
Lo, I will carve for simple Duty's sake
In many a glorious curve and colour sweet,
For blessèd angels' feet.
And there is nothing small within the light
Of God's transforming sight,
And glows Divine each detail at His touch
For him who serveth much.

102

March 22 EPISTLES OF CHRIST

“Shall not God search this out? for he knoweth the secrets of the heart.”—Ps. xliv. 21.

Ah, when alone I will be most to view
And treasure bloom and dew,
As though my thoughts were thoroughfares and lay
Open to the broad day;
And all my unknown feelings shall be pure,
Bathed every hour anew
In that Eternal Love which must have sway,
Sealèd for ever with its signature.
As in my Sovereign's Court when none is near,
And with a splendid fear,
I will bring all my bearing to the test
Of the supremely Best;
Crowning myself, as for God's passing-by,
With tender chivalry.

I wear the marks of the most highest birth
Reaching beyond this earth,
And I must move with awful self-respect
As one of Love's elect;
For I am most of Heaven and in it now,
And all hath utmost worth
Whate'er be mine, and nought may I reject
Who carry that great sign upon my brow.
O he who once has stept beyond this stage
And found his heritage,
He can forget no more the loftier part
Though with a broken heart;
And empty charms that pleasure idly weaves,
Fall off like dying leaves.

103

March 23 FOR CHRIST'S SAKE

“In that day shall the Lord of hosts be for a crown of glory.”—Isa. xxviii. 5.

Lord, let me suffer, that some lot may be
Brighter with holy joy;
And if thou must destroy
A life, O may thy judgment fall on me,
To make a fallen brother strong and free.
My bread be sorrow and my drink be tears,
If I may upward raise
By anguish borne in praise
One outcast trampled down by the dark years.

Lord, let me suffer that the child of sin
May choose Thy sweeter air,
And grow to fashion fair;
Thy deeper hell, lo, I would enter in—
To carry Heaven, and there bid hope begin.
For there are hells on earth and many a part
Foredoomed and damned at first,
And for that Love athirst
Which springs best from another's broken heart.

Lord, let me suffer, if a single breast
May only thus be healed
And the dear Christ revealed;
O take my portion of Thy living Rest,
And pour it out on some poor soul opprest.
The grave thou diggest (where dim sufferers pine)
For a lone Pariah lost
Grant me, whate'er the cost—
It were a bed of roses and Divine.

104

March 24 ROYALTY OF SUFFERING

“If we suffer, we shall also reign with him.”—2 Tim. ii. 12.

Lord, let me suffer, though this weak heart fails
When trial doth draw near,
And droopeth faith in fear;
Yea, from another's cross draw out the nails,
And crucify this coward flesh that quails;
If I may teach one stricken soul that Love
Rules over care and grief,
While pain is pain's relief,
And even the fall is but a fall above.

Lord, let me suffer, that the sad may feel
Joy rooted in all things,
Whatever sorrow brings;
And they, that shyly in the shadow kneel,
Grind sin and death to dust with conquering heel.
Ah, let them learn no little sob is vain,
No tear was shed for naught
Or labour idly wrought,
And there is pleasure at the core of pain.

Lord, let me suffer, if I thus may show
Within the dark Thy Light,
That cruel wrong comes right;
While all the streams of anguish from Thee flow,
And red earth with thine Altar is aglow.
Blot me for ever from Thy Book of Life,

105

And let my travailing breath
Be but a daily death—
If I may save one struggler in the Strife.

Lord, let me suffer, though I simply add
A moment brief of bliss
To pain's Diviner kiss,
For unloved lips and lives that never had
A wooer when the hearts around were glad.
Strip me of joy, if any feet that stood
Strayed in the desert far
May see the Morning Star,
And know that all Thy work is very good.

106

March 25 CHRIST THE WAY

“By a new and living way, . . . through . . . his flesh.”—Heb. x. 20.

O every hour of mercy hath
Its heavenly task and human freight,
And every little pain or path
Is easy with the Cross's weight;
Our stumbling-stocks are but the stones
Whereby we build eternal thrones.

And if we do our duty now
Or drain the cup that sorrow fills,
The future will unveil its brow
And show the everlasting hills;
Each moment is a living part
Of all, and lieth in God's Heart.

No burden knocks at any door
Unless the Christ hath borne it first,
And e'en the shadow on thy floor
(If death) is Love for thee athirst;
And though the final step be dim,
The deepest darkness fell on Him.

The measure of thy grief before
Was proved by Him who cannot fail,
And Christ, whom thus we do adore,
Is present in each thorn or nail;
Ah, He is piercèd in our loss,
And hangs with us on every cross.

107

March 26 I DID SIN

“He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities. . . . The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.”—Isa. liii. 5, 6.

I did sin, and Thou didst sorrow,
Jesu Christ, though these red hands
Wrought the deed with such a morrow,
Breaking all of Thy commands;
Thine the burden, Thou the Payer
Of the debt I cannot tell,
Who with pity and with prayer
Stoopedst even to life and hell.

I did sin, and Thou didst offer
Life itself that I might live,
To the enemy and scoffer
Giving what he could not give.
Thou the Wronged wast yet the Victim,
Priest and Sacrifice for man,
Gathering woes that should afflict him
All in Thine eternal plan.

I did sin, and Thou through dying
Liftedst me from utter loss,
In my grave of judgment lying
Lest I bow beneath the cross.
Love instead of the offender
Bore whatever shame was mine,
With an infinite surrender—
Just to make me, too, Divine.

108

March 27 THE MASTER'S WATCH

“What, could ye not watch with me one hour?”— St. Matt. xxvi. 40.

In the first watch the Master came
And found me faithless then in sleep,
For I had broken to my shame
The promise that I could not keep;
He did not waken me or weep,
And only took Himself the blame.
He said, “I have no earthly bed,
Nor where to rest My weary Head.”

In vision deep I gathered still
Some knowledge of His wondrous way,
Sorrow that slew but could not kill
The Saviour of the night and day;
For, oh! I struggled hard to pray,
And catch the impress of His Will.
But though I gat a blessèd gleam,
I felt my service was a dream.

Then in the second watch again
He gazed upon me where I was,
And yet He did not now complain,
Nor murmur softly even “Alas!”
He said, “My burden will not pass,
Which this dear weakness doth ordain;
And though the suffering world is wide,
I will hold vigil at his side.”

109

March 28 WATCH AND PRAY

“Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.”— St. Matt. xxvi. 41.

But still I stirred within my sleep
And vainly strove by Him to stand,
I knew I was His folded sheep
And sheltered in that Human Hand.
He did not rouse me or command,
But simply said, “His rest is deep;
O he is tired and needeth grace,
And I must travail in his place.”

Then in the third watch hoping on
If I at length would haply wake,
He found my slumber had not gone
While He kept guarding for my sake;
He said, “If one would sometimes take
His little part, in Babylon!
I had a single cross; but, see,
A thousand thousand press on Me.”

I was aware of all He said
And did for me, and ever tried
To burst the bondage on me laid—
The fetters thence about Him tied;
He said, “I am the Crucified
Alone, I never ask for aid;
I die, I die, and every day
Of dreadful Love that cannot slay.”

110

March 29 THE WATCHER

“Watch ye, stand fast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong.”—1 Cor. xvi. 13.

In the fourth watch my Master drew
Yet nearer to me at my post
Although I slept, and hours were few
Wherein to face the hostile host;
But, ah, He blamed Himself the most,
And said, “Mine is the Cross anew!
My brother rests; so let it be;
The vigil none can share with Me.”

And so if watchful I may seem,
Or fancy that my faith is strong,
I am not doing as I deem
In the great battle against wrong;
He fights and watches all along,
And this my labour is a dream.
For He within me worketh out,
Whate'er I win from fear or doubt.

When some poor pilgrim from the night
Calls to me, “Watchman, is the day
Soon coming with its longed-for light
To help me on my weary way?”
It is His voice that answers, “Yea,
Look up, the East is alway bright;
On Me the first thy shadow fell;
Go on thy journey; all is well.”

111

March 30 LOVE IS DEAD

“Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again.”— Rom. viii. 34.

I heard a weeping at the fountains,
I heard a wailing on the mountains—
A murmur over sea and shore,
A Voice that said
“Great Love is dead
And we must mourn for evermore.”
There was a shadow on the sky,
On rock and river
An awful shiver—
Earth shook in her mortality.
And, through the world, a rolling wave
Of grief was felt in every grave.

I heard a voice, I saw a vision—
A Calvary, and cold derision
Mocking a Form that hung and hangs
For ever there,
And everywhere
While Christ must bear His people's pangs.
I saw that Love had veiled His Head
In utter anguish,
And low did languish—
I thought that love was really dead.
The sun forgot that it was day,
And heaven in ghostly sackcloth lay.

112

March 31 LOVE IS LIVING

“Every thing that may abide the fire, ye shall make it go through the fire.”—Num. xxxi. 23.

I only marked the sin, the losses,
I only saw at first the crosses
And Christ in His grey Passion pain—
The Love that died
There crucified—
As though it could not rise again.
I did not look past outward sight
And guess the wonder
That was thereunder,
I did not hail the hidden Light;
It seemed, the very frame of things
Reeled at the central source and springs.

But then a deeper message spoken—
I found by death that death was broken,
And sin it was that suffered thus
The cruel shame,
Deliverance came
Alone through Calvary to us.
I found that in this judgment vial
And full free giving,
Grew life and living
For those that choose the Cross denial.
And now I know, whatever be,
Great love is all on earth and sea.