 | Songs for Sufferers |  |
9
PENTECOST.
I never knew what Spirit could be, till
The wounded body sadly failed me,
And seemed the home of every ache and ill;
But, at the end of earthly effort, still
A vaster power within availed me.
Nature's desertion then was Grace's hour,
And all my being burst in glorious power.
The wounded body sadly failed me,
And seemed the home of every ache and ill;
But, at the end of earthly effort, still
A vaster power within availed me.
Nature's desertion then was Grace's hour,
And all my being burst in glorious power.
I did renew my youth, the Spirit's might,
Though bodied in a holy meekness,
Put on fresh verdure, and leapt up in light;
I stood enthronèd on a sacred height,
That rose above my mortal weakness.
Far other gifts and fairer bloom were mine,
That drew from very frailty strength divine.
Though bodied in a holy meekness,
Put on fresh verdure, and leapt up in light;
I stood enthronèd on a sacred height,
That rose above my mortal weakness.
Far other gifts and fairer bloom were mine,
That drew from very frailty strength divine.
Each sinking of the heart was just a gain
Of spiritual faith and forces,
That reaped a harvest rich from throbbing pain;
And, with the body crucified and slain,
I drank new life from heavenly sources.
Yea, every little fleshly service lost
Was the beginning of a Pentecost.
Of spiritual faith and forces,
That reaped a harvest rich from throbbing pain;
And, with the body crucified and slain,
I drank new life from heavenly sources.
Yea, every little fleshly service lost
Was the beginning of a Pentecost.
| Songs for Sufferers | |