Chapter 126
It may be the fever of restless serving With heart all thirsty for love and praise, And eyes all aching and strained with yearning Toward self-set goals in the future days.
Or it may be fever of spirit anguish, Some tempest of sorrow that does not down, Till the cross at last is in meekness lifted And the head stoops low for the th.o.r.n.y crown.
Or it may be a fever of pain and anger, When the wounded spirit is hard to bear, And only the Lord can draw forth the arrows Left carelessly, cruelly rankling there.
Whatever the fever, his touch can heal it; Whatever the tempest, his voice can still.
There is only a rest as we seek his pleasure, There is only a rest as we choose his will.
And some day, after life's fitful fever, I think we shall say, in the home on high, "If the hands that he touched but did his bidding, How little it matters what else went by!"
Ah, Lord, Thou knowest us altogether, Each heart's sore sickness, whatever it be; Touch thou our hands! Let the fever leave us, And so shall we minister unto thee!
JESUS OUR JOY
Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts!
Thou Fount of life! thou Light of men!
From the best bliss that earth imparts We turn, unfilled, to thee again.
Thy truth unchanged hath ever stood; Thou savest those that on thee call; To them that seek thee thou art good, To them that find thee, all in all.
We taste thee, O thou Living Bread, And long to feast upon thee still; We drink of thee, the Fountain Head, And thirst our souls from thee to fill!
Our restless spirits yearn for thee Where'er our changeful lot is cast; Glad, when thy gracious smile we see, Blest, when our faith can hold thee fast.
O Jesus, ever with us stay; Make all our moments calm and bright; Chase the dark night of sin away; Shed o'er the world thy holy light.
--Bernard of Clairvaux, tr. by Ray Palmer.
FRIEND OF SOULS
O Friend of souls! how blest the time When in thy love I rest!
When from my weariness I climb E'en to thy tender breast!
The night of sorrow endeth there, Thy rays outs.h.i.+ne the sun; And in thy pardon and thy care The heaven of heavens is won.
The world may call itself my foe, Or flatter and allure, I care not for the world--I go To this tried friend and sure.
And when life's fiercest storms are sent Upon life's wildest sea, My little bark is confident Because it holdeth thee.
When the law threatens endless death Upon the awful hill, Straightway from her consuming breath My
I do not fear the wilderness-- Where thou hast been before; Nay, rather will I daily press After thee, near thee, more.
Thou art my food, on thee I lean; Thou makest my heart sing; And to thy heavenly pastures green All thy dear flock dost bring.
And if the gate that opens there Be dark to other men, It is not dark to those who share The heart of Jesus then.
That is not losing much of life Which is not losing thee, Who art as present in the strife As in the victory.
To others death seems dark and grim, But not, O Lord, to me; I know thou ne'er forsakest him Who puts his trust in thee.
Nay, rather with a joyful heart I welcome the release From this dark desert, and depart To thy eternal peace.
--Wolfgang C. Dessler.
MY LORD AND I
I have a Friend so precious, So very dear to me, He loves me with such tender love, He loves so faithfully, I could not live apart from him, I love to feel him nigh; And so we dwell together, My Lord and I.
Sometimes I'm faint and weary; He knows that I am weak, And as he bids me lean on him His help I gladly seek; He leads me in the paths of light Beneath a sunny sky, And so we walk together, My Lord and I.
He knows how much I love him, He knows I love him well, But with what love he loveth me My tongue can never tell.
It is an everlasting love In ever rich supply, And so we love each other, My Lord and I.
I tell him all my sorrows, I tell him all my joys, I tell him all that pleases me, I tell him what annoys.
He tells me what I ought to do, He tells me how to try, And so we talk together, My Lord and I.
He knows how I am longing Some weary soul to win, And so he bids me go and speak The loving word for him.
He bids me tell his wondrous love, And why he came to die, And so we work together, My Lord and I.
I have his yoke upon me, And easy 'tis to bear; In the burden which he carries I gladly take a share; For then it is my happiness To have him always nigh; We bear the yoke together, My Lord and I.
--L. Sh.o.r.ey.
Ever, when tempted, make me see, Beneath the olive's moon-pierced shade, My G.o.d alone, outstretched and bruised, And bleeding on the earth he made; And make me feel it was my sin, As though no other sin there were, That was to him who bears the world A load that he could scarcely bear.
--Frederick William Faber.
JESUS ALL-SUFFICIENT
If only he is mine-- If but this poor heart Never more, in grief or joy, May from him depart, Then farewell to sadness; All I feel is love, and hope, and gladness.
If only he is mine, Then from all below, Leaning on my pilgrim staff, Gladly forth I go From the crowd who follow, In the broad, bright road, their pleasures false and hollow.
If only he is mine, Then all else is given; Every blessing lifts my eyes And my heart to heaven.
Filled with heavenly love, Earthly hopes and fears no longer tempt to move.
There, when he is mine, Is my Fatherland, And my heritage of bliss Cometh from his hand.
Now I find again, In his people, love long lost, and mourned in vain.
--Novalis.
JESUS SUPREME
Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, Live o'er again in me, That, filled with love, I may become A Christ in my degree.
Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, My inmost being fill; So shall I think as thou dost think, And will as thou dost will.
Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, Thy life transfigure mine; And through this veil of mortal flesh Here may thy glory s.h.i.+ne.
Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, Thy love's constraint I feel, Thy cross I see, and mind and heart Obey its mute appeal.