 | Songs for Sufferers |  |
11
MY LOVER.
The sun looks in through the frosty glass
Of my sick-room in the morning,
And the shadows fall on the shining grass;
For the Light is my Lover, He will not pass
One blade with the skirts of scorning.
And I always see, over the gleaming sod,
The piercèd feet of the Living God.
Of my sick-room in the morning,
And the shadows fall on the shining grass;
For the Light is my Lover, He will not pass
One blade with the skirts of scorning.
And I always see, over the gleaming sod,
The piercèd feet of the Living God.
I feel His breath on my fevered face,
And never a day He misses;
But behind the cloud is His secret place;
When we touch in a tender and long embrace,
My sufferings are His kisses.
Oh, the Light is my Lover, on tree or clod,
And my bedroom grave is the House of God.
And never a day He misses;
But behind the cloud is His secret place;
When we touch in a tender and long embrace,
My sufferings are His kisses.
Oh, the Light is my Lover, on tree or clod,
And my bedroom grave is the House of God.
Ah, nothing can veil Him from these eyes,
Of that Presence I am most certain,
And the sun never sets in the hidden skies;
Where my Lover hath yet some sweet surprise,
Who is vision, and cloud, and curtain;
And I find a staff in the chastening rod,
While I rest in the mercies of my God.
Of that Presence I am most certain,
And the sun never sets in the hidden skies;
Where my Lover hath yet some sweet surprise,
Who is vision, and cloud, and curtain;
And I find a staff in the chastening rod,
While I rest in the mercies of my God.
| Songs for Sufferers | |