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

“Shew me thy glory. And he said, I will make all my goodness pass before thee. ... Thou canst not see my face: ... there shall no man see me, and live.”—Exod. xxxiii. 18–20.

We cannot see Thee as Thou art,
We cannot hear Thee as we would;
But do believe that all is good,
And in the beating of Thy heart
Lies the last throb of Fatherhood—
If heaven and earth alike depart;
And though the ancient suns have set,
Their light is burning in us yet.

We would not see the utter awe
Of Thy whole Splendour, if we might;
We are content, that reverent night
Should wrap us close in loving law.
We dare not ask the perfect sight,
That slays what is not without flaw;
And though great landmarks long have gone,
Horizons in us still lead on.

We may not see the gracious round
That gathers in all moons and stars,
The final touch that draws the scars
Into the beauty of its bound;
But O the blessing of the bars,
That shut us in with roses wound!
We warm our hands at holy fires,
Of early faiths and old desires.

January 2 LIGHT OF GOD'S LOVE

“God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”—2 Cor. iv. 6.

We shall not see the wider way
Which beacons to the Presence now,
Though sunrise glimmers on the brow
And trust in shadow shows its ray;
Why should we wish the heavens to bow,
Before our eyes can drink of day?
Thy Goodness ever passeth by,
If lesser orbs have left the sky.

We failed to see one finished thing
Among the grandeurs that have been,
Though land was from Thy glory green
And ocean gave its marriage ring;
We guessed each woman would be queen
Some day, and every man a king.
Meanwhile we humbly kneel, and know
Our altars with Thy kindling glow.

We did not see in storied line
Or canvas or the carven stone,
The inmost Light that is Thy throne
And bids the desert laugh and shine;
Completeness rests with Thee alone,
And walls our errors in Divine.
Enough to feel how heavenly earth,
Which is Thy Love's own sacred Hearth.

January 3 GRACE AND THE THORN

“There was given to me a thorn in the flesh. ... For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me. And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”—2 Cor. xii. 7–9.

Give me Thy burdens, Lord, ere I go out,
Against the trials of a troublous earth;
I needs must have my cross, my glorious doubt,
My aching dearth;
I cannot breathe Thy better air, unless
Faith marks the cloud which veils the dazzling dome,
And feels the claim of that world-weariness
Calling me Home.

Give me the cares that are my armour now,
Though long brute barriers to the onward way;
Spare not one thorn that pierced the unwilling brow,
But yesterday;
Bind me in chains of many wants, and load
My bitter life with bondage grey and mean,
And it shall be a staff, albeit a goad
Whereon I lean.

Give me the losses that are just my wealth,
The lack wherein my wings alone may rise,
For in the blindness and the blank unhealth
Lurks Paradise;
Ah, in each shadow, at the fire or shock,
Out of the death that I must daily brave,
I plant my feet more firmly on the Rock,
My cradle-grave.

January 4 THE GREATEST BOON

“He doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men.”—Lam. iii. 33.

Give me Thy greatest boon, that fain would try
My shrinking trust, and shapes me thus at length
Forth from the waves of dear adversity,
To grander strength;
Thy peace is there beneath the passion swell,
If now I only heed the imprisoning bound
Or fret at fever sore, and all is well
And Love all round.

Give me to know that if heaven seem one frown,
And there are natural tears for mortal things;
The very babe sees Christ is looking down,
And feels its wings.
Yea, the first smile that thrills the mother's heart
Reveals the eternal truth that God is good,
And praises, though unconscious of its part,
His Fatherhood.

Give me Thyself, with every thorn, and so
It will be small—nay, beautiful and sweet—
And every tear a lesson glad, if slow,
Learnt at Thy feet.
Till I have grown, from many a shattered chain
And many a shameful choice of broken charms,
Into Thine Image, and a child again
Rocked in Thine Arms.

January 5 JEWELS OF SORROWS

“Unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake.”—Phil. i. 29.

Give me repentance for repentance poor,
Sickness that shows the world is without rest;
And let each pang be but an opening door,
Unto Thy Breast
Mine be the hunger that denies repose,
The nails, the stones that are my treasure still,
Until I see my love at last unclose
Within Thy Will.

Give me my brother's woe, my sister's weight,
Wherewith she stumbles in her sadness lone;
For these are precious, and my earthly freight
And heavenly throne.
O, may my dumbness and these darkened ears
Yet glorify the Master more, and make
Some sufferer's portion brighter from my fears,
For Jesus' sake.

Pain be my platter, and grief the cup,
Whereof I drink and gather food to go;
And every fall a step that lifts me up
From deeps below.
Sorrows my jewels are, not passing joys,
Weakness the sword that cuts for me a way
Towards some fresh cross, and builds while it destroys
Gold out of clay.

January 6 OUR OPEN CAGE

“All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth.”— Ps. xxv. 10.

By different paths, O Lord, from many lands
We come, we come unconscious of Thy will,
And the eternal Patience of those Hands
Guiding us still;
For all the roads of knowledge and of faith,
Descents of man, ascents Divine and free,
Through joy or sorrow and by life or death
Lead unto Thee.

There is one Goal to these our many cares,
While blindly we pursue mere selfish ends,
And but one way at last if unawares
It upward tends.
We think the track is moulded by our pains,
We hew us idols, raise the temple dome,
To reach by altars dead and broken chains
Somehow our Home.

We choose or seem to choose the daily deed,
The apportioned task and triumph for an hour,
But Thine was ever the immortal seed
And Thine the flower;
We strive against Thee with our idle strength,
As in an open cage a foolish dove,
Until we find our liberty at length
Within Thy Love.

January 7 A MAGNIFICAT

“Now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death.”—Phil. i. 20.

We have the crown refusing to be kings,
We grovel on the ground when ours the sky,
We feel the flutter of the angel wings
Yet will not fly,
For all is good, save sin, the deepest cloud,
The darkest evil and the graveyard dust,
Whatever comes—and if it be the shroud—
Divinely must.

And every little pang or prick of thorn,
As well as earthquake shocks that shake the globe,
Teach us there is no rest for hearts forlorn
Except Thy robe;
And suffering is the shadow of its fall
That fain would gather us into its reach,
And grief is just a gracious Father's call
Who wants us each.

Or height or depth, or tender kiss or harms
That fret the weakness of our human flesh,
Are nothing less than shapings of Thine Arms
Making afresh;
And thus rebuilded, rising to our stars,
We prove whatever is though hard is best;
And while we beat against them still the bars
Are but Thy Breast.

January 8 THE ELECT LADY

“These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”—Rev. vii. 14.

O Virgin Church, I see before me rise
And standing where the blessed martyrs stood,
Unharmed in glorious shame
Betwixt the sword and flame;
Thou art the open door of Paradise,
Pure as was Mary in her maidenhood.
Thy towers are tops of day,
And in thy courts the little children play.

Purgèd by fire and the red axe and rope,
Thou hast learned love in iron schools of pain,
And wrung the jewel Light
From chambers of dread night;
Thou art the eternal Prisoner of Hope,
And Christ works with thee in one chosen chain—
Thou wouldest not be sweet,
Hadst thou not washed and kissed the Saviour's Feet.

White Mother Maiden, at thy holy breast
Gather for living food the souls that need,
In hunger of the heart;
Thou biddest none depart,
That by the Cross are crucified to rest—
Willing with precious blood to sow the seed.
And in thy crimson shrine,
God seems more Human and man more Divine

January 9 REDEMPTION

“The whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now. And not only they, but ourselves also ... waiting for ... redemption.”—Rom. viii. 22, 23.

All living creatures' pain,
The sufferings of the lowliest thing that creeps
Or flies a moment ere it sinks and sleeps,
Are too Redemption's tears and not in vain—
For nothing idly weeps.
Earth is through these fulfilling that it must
As in Christ's own eternal Passion chain,
And flowering from the dust.

The driven and drudging ass
Crushed by the bondage of its bitter round,
Repeats the Gospel in that narrow bound;
God is reflected in the blade of grass,
And there is Calvary's ground.
O not an insect or on leaf or sod
But in its measure is a looking-glass,
And shows Salvation's God.

All thus are carrying on,
And do work out, the one Redemption's tale;
Each is a little Christ on hill or dale,
The hell where Mercy's light has never shone
Is with that Mercy pale.
And though flesh turn from agony they dread,
Even as they groan and travail it is gone—
Love riseth from the dead.

January 10 THY WILL MY WAY

“If this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, thy will be done.”—St. Matt. xxvi. 42.

Thy will be done, my Saviour! Let me lie,
Calm in Thy keeping;
For Thou art Love and Wisdom, and I know
Whether I live this coming hour or die,
Thy Guardian Hands are round me and below,
Waking or sleeping;
And though I were Thy humblest I am one—
Thy will be done.

Thy will be done, my Master! It is sweet
To feel Thy Nearness
Always, when others I so often miss;
To be allowed to bathe Thy blessed Feet
In costly tears, and sometimes kneel and kiss
Their Divine dearness;
If every gift were pain and pleasure none—
Thy will be done.

Thy will be done, my Shepherd! In Thy fold,
When it is sorrow,
I am content to famish or to feed;
For Thou art Present in the dark and cold,
And with Thy Riches nothing more I need,
Nor dread the morrow;
Whether the weary fight be lost or won—
Thy will be done.

January 11 GOD DISPOSE

“Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.”— St. Matt. vi. 10.

Thy will be done, my Saviour! Joys or pangs
Are of Thy giving;
And if I must go through the burning fire
Or crucify this flesh, with Thee it hangs,
And every nail is but a quenched desire
That spoiled true living;
If men for Thee must suffer, make me one—
Thy will be done.

Thy will be done, my Master! And if friends
Mock or betray me,
And fortune flies and with it earthly weal,
I will believe that Love Eternal sends
Each loss to sign me better with Thy seal—
Although it slay me;
I ask for no great prize and portion none—
Thy will be done.

Thy will be done, my Shepherd! Let me drink
But of Thy Fulness,
And bear Thy blest reproaches as my part;
I shall not tremble on death's awful brink,
Nor feel when gathered to Thy broken Heart
Despair's cold dulness;
And if a crown of thorns be only won—
Thy will be done.

January 12 THE CHRIST LIFE

“To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”—Phil. i. 21.

Dear Lord, I care not very much to live,
Nor would I fear so very much to die,
But let me take what Thou dost freely give
And in the hands of perfect Wisdom lie.
Thy Love my life is, and it cannot be
I might one moment live apart from Thee.

May I not choose the fancied good or ill,
But leave the choice with Thee Who errest not,
Content to rest upon that holy Will
Whatever be the lesson of my lot!
No good were good without Thy Presence sweet,
Nor ill unkind that brought me to Thy Feet.

To live is but to look into that Face
Which is the sunshine of all hearts and lands,
And beauty hath no meaning and no place
Unless in Thee and in Thy strength it stands.
I were mere clay, save for the quickening trust
Which lifts me to the eternal Light from dust.

To die is just to pass from shadows vain
Unto full blessing only found in Thee,
To drop a burden and to break a chain
Which binds a spirit fretting to be free;
And would such joy might be my latest breath,
That every soul should fall in love with death.

January 13 OUR CLOSED DOOR

“And thou shalt set bounds unto the people round about.”— Exod. xix. 12.

Some day these feet shall tread Thy temple floor,
Master, though now no glory shine on me—
Content to wait for Thee;
I thank Thee for the shutting of the door;
It is my sweetest ointment
Thy balm of disappointment,
And without this I were exceeding poor.

Grey clouds roll through the heavens their ragged drift,
And hide from me the little gleam of blue,
A glimpse of splendour true;
I thank Thee for the veiling of the rift;
For when the gateway closes
We find the fairest roses,
Denial is Thy best and greatest gift.

Not here for me Thy royal robe and kiss,
Nor feast, nor gracious garland to be worn,
Unless it be of scorn;
I thank Thee for the blotting out of bliss;
The palms and crowns for others
And give the flowers to brothers
But keep for me Thy grandest crown of thorn.

Not for my foot the freedom of the moor
And mountain, while it carries still the stain—
But some dear sufferer's chain;
I thank Thee for the darkening of the door;
Without Thy lovelier losses
And milestones that are crosses,
Could I be as my Master who was poor?

January 14 SADNESS, THE ANGEL

“Behold, there stood a man over against him with his sword drawn in his hand.”—Josh. v. 13.

Sadness is just the angel on the way
That brings me tidings of the better land,
Though sworded he may stand;
I thank Thee for the cleansing of the clay;
For, were my pride not broken,
I had no heavenly token
To bid me hear a Father's call to pray.

I feel each pain is never idly sent;
It hath a meaning for the time and place,
And marks a special grace;
I thank Thee I am often bowed and bent;
And Thy so precious sorrow,
That bears no fruit to-morrow,
Shall yet be richest in the life most rent.

I know Thy disappointments leave their scars
But O they turn to jewels when my love
Looks just to Thee above;
I thank Thee for the helpful bolts and bars;
Sweet is the sunny meadow,
But with no saving shadow
I should not see a glint of guiding stars.

It may be now I tread Thy temple floor,
Unconscious here is the most holy ground
And in the very bound;
I thank Thee for the shutting of the door;
It shuts me from earth's pleasure
To Thee my heavenly Treasure,
And shuts me in with all Thy blessed Poor.

January 15 SPEAR-POINTS

“And he took ... thorns of the wilderness and briers, and with them he taught the men of Succoth.”—Judges viii. 16.

In every lack lies some sublimest gain,
And on the spear-point of the puniest pang
Eternal issues hang;
I thank Thee for the privilege of pain;
My famine is Thy Fulness,
And from my darkest dulness
Shineth at last the Rest that shall remain.

A perfect portion mine I do believe,
Though I be robbed of lawful joys and light
Or riches get my right;
I thank Thee for the wrongs I may retrieve;
Thou spreadest each a Table
And giv'st, as we are able
To enter in Thy mercies and receive.

Thy loving strokes tell clearest what Thou art;
They bind me to Thy brotherhood of Grief,
That cometh as a Thief;
I thank Thee for the smiting and the smart;
Thou fill'st my neighbour's vessel
Fuller, but I can nestle
Within Thy precious wounds and Broken Heart.

When faith looks back the meaning is descried
Of every little nail that pierced my rest,
Stabbing me through Thy Breast;
I thank Thee for the soft repose denied;
And the most far withholdings
Are warmest, and enfoldings
Into the secret of the Crucified.

January 16 THE WAY OF THE CROSS

“Whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple.”—St. Luke xiv. 27.

He who would follow Me, must give
Body and soul and mind
And all, if he would truly live—
Nor turn a look behind;
He must not keep one treasure back,
To be my servant now
And walk with Me the lonely track—
Dost thou?

He must surrender child and wife,
At need, whate'er I crave,
And with the roses of this life
Cast them into My Grave;
He must spare nothing that is dear,
No tenderest tie or vow
Which sunders him from Love more near—
Hast thou?

He must lay fortune at My Feet
And friends and every good,
If he would thus be not unmeet
For my pale Brotherhood;
He must not grudge the grinding cares
Which sickly soon the brow,
Nor weigh the cost the Martyr dares—
Canst thou?

He who would make his Master known
And bear the blessèd Cross,
Must never call a thing his own
Nor measure pain and loss.
He must be piercèd with My thorn,
And breaking yet not bow
Beneath the burden I have borne—
Wilt thou?

He must not hold the earthly strong
Nor deem the Heavenly slight,
But gladly suffer shame and wrong
With darkness as his light;
He must be always offering up
His best nor heedful how,
And drain with Me the deathly cup—
Art thou?

January 17 DE MINIMIS CURAT DEUS

“The very hairs of your head are all numbered.”— St. Matt. x. 30.

Each matter counts, each mite hath part
And power in God's great systemed Grace,
If finds an echo in His Heart
And some soft reflex of His Face.
O we are lapt in Boundless Love
And nothing can be out of place,
There is no under or above
Within the Father's wide embrace.

My fairest fear, my sweetest pain,
Is bound to broader schemes and scope
In tune with a sublimer strain,
Not measured even by harps of hope.
The thorn of thought which draggeth down
To darkness, whence no portals ope,
May be a gem in Jesu's crown—
Reached but by His red Altar slope.

The smallest trifle still must tell,
Though how I do not fully see,
And is a little heaven or hell—
According as I choose to be.
A tear is infinite, the pang
Where I am least myself and free—
On each eternal issues hang,
They lead through shadow, Lord, to Thee.

January 18 CHRIST'S FULNESS

“The love of Christ, ... filled with all the fulness of God.”— Eph. iii. 19.

Lord Jesus, Thou art all to me
And ever walkest at my side,
Thou art an overshadowing tree,
My Morning and the Eventide:
Thou art the Fountain, whence I dip
Up life of loving fellowship.

Thou art the pillow of my head
And daily staff wherewith I go,
My table and the heavenly bread
That feeds me when I faint below;
And as the flower that holds the light,
I summer in Thy Holy Sight.

Thou art my platter and the board
At which Thine angels also sit,
My refuge and the secret hoard
So full of treasures infinite;
The gold is Thine, and at the Cross
I purge me from the clinging dross.

Thou art my sword and guardian shield,
My haven and the sheltering shore,
The bounty of the harvest-field
Wherein I reap for evermore;
Thou art my one Delight and All,
Who hearest even before I call.

January 19 THE SINNER'S PLACE

“He was wounded for our transgressions.”—Isa. liii. 5.

Away from there, my Lord, my Love
Why should'st Thou suffer so?
Thine is the crownèd seat above,
And mine the Cross below.
I am not worthy of such grace,
With grief it crushes me;
For, ah, that is the sinner's place
Where only I would be.

It is too terrible that Thou
Art piercèd with my sins,
And must in awful anguish bow
Where the world's life begins.
The wonder of Thy Pity, Lord,
Yet brings me to Thy grave;
To Mercy which is like a sword,
And killeth but to save.

O let the cruel nails be mine,
And all Thy bitter part;
That I may learn the Love Divine
Which breaketh this cold heart.
Yea, Thine be honour's every crown,
For me the shame and loss;
I gladly lay my treasures down,
To take instead Thy Cross.

January 20 THE SECRET PRESENCE

“Greater works than these shall he do, because I go unto my Father.”—St. John xiv. 12.

Christ came to me one weary day, and said—
“Now, to be nearer thee, I must go far
And build between Myself and thee a bar,
That thou may'st lean no more on outward aid;
But still unfaltering fight, be not afraid,
For I am yet the Morn and Evening Star:
My Voice in silence thou wilt closest hear,
And when the farthest off I am most near.

“To love thee greatly, too, I must deny
And yield thee up to trouble and long toil,
That life to foes may be a ready spoil—
For those I love the best I crucify;
But in the darkness and extremity,
The lamp of faith shall find its sweetest oil;
And if I would do grander works for thee,
Then I do nothing, and Mine angels flee.”

So He arose and left my gaze, and I
Went forth, I deemed alone, to empty years,
Companioned but by ghostly doubts and fears;
And the soft breath of Heaven seemed one big sigh
That bade my feeble flesh lie down and die,
And bitter thoughts spared not their cruel spears.
But, lo, an awful Brightness in me shone,
And all Eternity with me moved on.

January 21 THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD

“I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the Light of Life.”—St. John viii. 12.

Light comes not only from the East,
But through far windows seen by few
In lands where they on manna feast,
With faith they every hour renew;
Light is not fixèd here or there,
For such it shineth everywhere.

In darkest nights there is a sun,
And sometimes from the West it breaks,
When lesser lamps their course have run
And all the inmost heart awakes;
Then beams a brightness not of earth,
Alike on altar and the hearth.

The souls that humbly watch and wait
'Mid bleak horizons black with sin,
And stand though in an iron strait,
Shall find a better day within;
When prospects are most blank and blind,
The morn is creeping up behind.

Dawn bursts not only on the eye,
Down in the sabbath of the breast
It kindles powers that cannot die,
And deeper rest beyond the rest;
For those, that catch its faintest gleam,
Have read at last the ages' dream.

January 22 SCATTER FLOWERS

“The desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose.”— Isa. xxxv. 1.

We scatter flowers along our track,
And know not whether bad or good,
Some give to us a blessing back,
Some die where they a moment stood;
O scatter flowers for sunless hours,
In love of Christian Brotherhood.

We scatter gems as on we go
In every kindly act or aim,
Some rest on humble heads below,
Some miss the message that they claim;
O scatter gems, for diadems
Of poorer lives that sorrows maim.

We scatter seeds of golden corn
When we take duties while we can,
Some help a soul that is reborn,
Some do but spoil a splendid plan;
O scatter seeds in gentle deeds,
If they may raise one fallen man.

God scatters with us as we toil
For others, and He holds each hand,
And if our task is stony soil
Still is He Master of the land;
And He will send, unto the end,
The power that comes with His command.

January 23 OUT OF THE DUST

“He knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”—Job xxiii. 10.

“Dust of gold.”—Job xxviii. 6.

Were I the dust beneath Thy Feet,
Lord, when Thou passest, they would make
The whole wide world around me sweet,
And life within me all awake;
Were I the dust beneath Thy Feet,
Thereunder earth and Heaven would meet

Were I the dust upon the hem
Of Thy sweet robe for ever nigh,
Each pang would be a precious gem
And stumbling-stones yet lift me high;
Were I the dust upon Thy hem,
My thorns would weave a diadem.

Were I the dust about Thy path
Which still is everywhere and good,
Soft would the buffets be of wrath
In such a blessed Brotherhood;
Were I the dust about Thy path,
Gold would be then my aftermath.

Were I the dust below the dust
Whereon Thy gracious steps are laid,
Forth from the very grave my trust
Would spring and no more be afraid;
Were I the dust below the dust,
Life would be mine because it must.

January 24 SERVICE OF HUMILITY

“Whosoever will be great among you, let him be your minister; and whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant.”—St. Matt. xx. 26, 27.

I seek not, Lord, some easy task,
No gain or glory do I ask
Nor any cheap successes;
No market pricing of men's lips
A year, a day, and then eclipse—
Nor fortune's false caresses.
I only covet to be free,
To serve my brother,—serving Thee.

The riches that I crave are Thine
Alone, which Thou dost first refine
By daily cares and losses;
The modest choice of Mary's part,
The secret of a humble heart
Learnt not by crowns but crosses.
For what I need and value most,
Is place by Thee at Duty's post.

Mine incompleteness which would fall
Without Thy help that giveth all,
Fill up though but through trials;
If I must pass the purging flame,
It will grow meek at Jesu's Name
And make Divine denials.
I am content to live or die,
Because within Thy Love I lie.

January 25 THE USEFUL LIFE

“It pleased the Lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief.”—Isa. liii. 10.

Use me, O Lord, however small
Or perilous the office be;
I am assured that, if I fall,
It can be only upon Thee.
I simply ask to be a tool
Which Thou wilt at Thy duties ply,
Though but a besom in the school
Of Grace which is Humility.

Use me, O Lord, for any toil
That may yet higher lift Thy throne;
And when I labour, let the soil
Be mine, and Thine the praise alone.
I merely want to serve Thy Hand,
In honour or dishonour held—
I care not which—at Thy command,
With every private feeling quell'd.

Use me, O Lord, although I creep
Along the meanest track of trust,
Or am Thy Temple mat, or sweep
Thy glorious pathway from the dust.
I would not strike a stirring note,
Nor ever wished 'mid men to shine;
I were content to be a mote,
If this set off Thy rays Divine.

January 26 CHRIST THE WAY

“I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”—St. John xiv. 6.

The shadow falls, O bid it shine,
Dear Saviour, on me and be Thine
Along the lonely way;
Thy Hand in darkness holds and lifts
The helpless wanderer, as he drifts
And hardly dares to pray.

Yet I would rather stray with Thee
Through the grey desert, than be free
To walk a selfish road;
And I would sail the roughest tide
If Thou wert standing at my side,
Or bear the heaviest load.

Thy Love may only be my life
Through inward storms or outward strife,
In Thee is ever morn;
O with Thee barren labours bloom,
While winter days deny their gloom
And pains forget their thorn.

Thou art the Way, my dearest Lord,
And with the manna of Thy word
My soul is hourly fed;
And at Thy Presence pure and bright,
My withered heart would leap to light
Were it like Lazarus dead.

January 27 THE TRUE ASPECT

“Lot dwelled in the cities of the plain, and pitched his tent towards Sodom.”—Gen. xiii. 12.

“Looking (away) unto Jesus.”—Heb. xii. 2.

Sodom has many a tempting toy
That lures with idle jest or joy,
But there Thy Face I cannot see;
And though the passions of the flesh
While crucified rise up afresh,
I pitch my little tent towards Thee.

O Father, in this narrow nook
Of lowly life I upward look,
Where Thou my shelter still must be;
And if the world is very bright,
I cannot mark it for Thy light
And pitch my little tent towards Thee.

I know and could forget it not,
The suffering of Thy servant Lot
Who thought of pastures fair and free;
I dare not go near Sodom's walls
Nor hear from far its Siren calls,
And pitch my little tent towards Thee.

Be Thou my City and my Home,
My fortress tower, my Temple dome,
My living Well, my shadowing Tree;
And I a passing pilgrim, then
Without the clogging ties of men,
Will pitch my little tent towards Thee.

January 28 MANNA

“To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna.”—Rev. ii. 17.

Dear Master, ere I touch the toil
Which Thou hast bidden Thy servant do,
I pray Thee to preserve from soil
My life and labour with me too;
Be with me in my every need,
And let me on Thee rest indeed.

Choose for me in each daily choice
I make, and, Lord, not merely speak
Through faltering lips but be my Voice—
For without Thee my words were weak;
May men take knowledge, I have knelt
With Thee and in Thy Presence dwelt.

Wash me in innocence, and stand
Beside me when the seed is sown;
And strengthen me—nay, be my Hand,
That mine may seem my very own.
Here at Thine Altar as I pray,
Be Thou my blessed Food to-day.

Keep Thou this heart with diligence
Sweet for Thyself and unto death,
That I from Thine Omnipotence
May draw mine every thought and breath;
O be Thou only, ere I call,
My living Life, my Love, my All.

January 29 EARTHEN VESSELS

“We have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.”—2 Cor. iv. 7.

My strength is weak, my staff is brittle,
And I would turn at danger's touch;
But that my love, dear Lord, is such
I cannot, will not serve Thee little—
My heart desires to serve Thee much;
O lift me more, unto the stature
Of Thine own high and holy Nature.

O may my faith be nothing moulded
By forms and fashions of the day,
And worn to suit an easy way;
But in Thy Glory lie enfolded,
Yet sweetening in Thy blessed sway
I do not ask release from labours,
But to rest from them in my neighbour's.

My love was faint and would be colder,
The world is so a present fear
That when Thou speakest I scarce hear;
Ah, lay some lamb upon my shoulder,
And I shall find Thy Greatness near;
Nay, if I trust and do not tarry,
It will be Christ that I shall carry.

January 30 VICARIOUS SUFFERING

“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.

Jesu, my Lord and Life, the Master,
If any wounds are aimed at Thee
That Thou wilt let my blindness see;
Be those my portion—may disaster
That were a brother's, fall on me.
Though sore my dread when winds grow rougher,
Make me not safe, but for Thee suffer.

I am a child in faith and humble,
Do Thou uphold me with Thy Hand
To bear instead my fellow's brand,
And prop his steps that else might stumble.
Bruise me below, that he may stand;
I am not brave, I flinch from losses—
But grant me, Lord, Thine empty Crosses.

My work is poor, I claim no merit
Except that I am only Thine
And with Thy splendour feebly shine;
But while so poor, I do inherit
All riches in Thy Grace Divine.
I seek no more than what is given,
To find in Thee myself—my Heaven.

In Thy vast vineyard there are corners
Without a labourer, or the light
Of love to make them large and bright;
The Saints are few, and many scorners,
Yet sow me there although in night;
And should there be some grave for filling,
If that Thy will be, I am willing.

January 31 HEART SERVICE

“God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.”—St. John iv. 24.

Christ bade us not to worship much,
But just to follow, follow
His Master tone, His Master touch—
For earth is hollow, hollow;
He would not limit us to forms,
But gave us strength against the storms.

Christ did not leave us lengthy prayers,
But bade us copy, copy
His leading through a world of tares
And sin's red poppy, poppy;
He would not raise a reverend shrine,
But strove to make the heart Divine.

Christ left no rigid rules to bind,
But Light to follow, follow,
As with the summer sweet and kind
Goes round the swallow, swallow;
He would not lay upon us chains,
But showed us how to conquer pains.

Christ asked us not to worship faith
But prove by living, living;
And loyal be like Him to death,
With labour's giving, giving.
He would not have us bow to brooms,
Though they sweep out His temple rooms.

Christ taught us not to seek repose
In tears or laughter, laughter;
But bear the Cross the days disclose
With Him, yet after, after.
In forms He suffered none to rest
Nor feelings, but upon His Breast.

Christ gave no rites or legal robe
To be a burden, burden;
But Life to cover all the globe,
And Love as guerdon, guerdon.
We are to imitate His deeds,
Not quarrel in His name for creeds.