The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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March 5
TO AND FROM CALVARY |
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 | The Prisoner of Love |  |
75
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.”
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.
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.
My pride, the peace that would begin
But hath already feared and flown;
76
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.
| The Prisoner of Love | |