Chapter 127
Be thou supreme, Lord Jesus Christ, And when this life is o'er May I be with thee where thou art, Like thee, forever more.
ALL FOR JESUS
What shall I sing for thee, My Lord and Light?
What shall I bring to thee, Master, to-night?
O for the strong desire!
O for the touch of fire!
Then shall my tuneful lyre Praise thee aright.
Thou hast given all for me, Saviour divine!
I would give all to thee, Evermore thine!
Let my heart cling to thee, Let my lips sing for thee, Let me just bring to thee All that is mine!
Didst thou not die for me, Ransom for sin?
Ascending on high for me, Pleading within?
All shall be dross for thee, All shall be loss for thee, Welcome the cross for thee I, too, shall win!
What can I do for thee, Glorious Friend?
Let me be true to thee Right to the end!
Close to thy bleeding side, Washed in the crimson tide, On till the waves divide, Till I ascend!
Then a still sweeter song, Jesus, I'll bring; Up 'mid the ransomed throng Thee will I sing!
Never to leave thee now, Never to grieve thee now, Low at thy feet to bow, Wonderful King!
--Henry Burton.
CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE
O who like thee, so calm, so bright, Lord Jesus Christ, thou Light of light; O who like thee did ever go So patient through a world of woe?
O who like thee so humbly bore The scorn, the scoffs of men, before; So meek, so lowly, yet so high, So glorious in humility?
Through all thy lifelong weary years, A Man of sorrows and of tears, The cross, where all our sins were laid, Upon thy bending shoulders weighed; And death, that sets the prisoner free, Was pang and scoff and scorn to thee; Yet love through all thy torture glowed, And mercy with thy life-blood flowed.
O wondrous Lord, our souls would be Still more and more conformed to thee!
Would lose the pride, the taint of sin, That burns these fevered veins within?
And learn of thee, the lowly One, And, like thee, all our journey run, Above the world, and all its mirth, Yet weeping still with weeping earth.
Be with us as we onward go; Illumine all our way of woe; And grant us ever on the road To trace the footsteps of our G.o.d; That when thou shalt appear, arrayed In light,
--Arthur Cleveland c.o.xe.
IT Pa.s.sETH KNOWLEDGE
It pa.s.seth knowledge, that dear love of thine, My Jesus! Saviour! Yet this soul of mine Would of that love in all its depth and length, Its height and breadth and everlasting strength, Know more and more.
It pa.s.seth telling, that dear love of thine, My Jesus! Saviour! yet these lips of mine Would fain proclaim to sinners far and near A love which can remove all guilty fear, And love beget.
It pa.s.seth praises, that dear love of thine, My Jesus! Saviour! yet this heart of mine Would sing a love so rich, so full, so free, Which brought an undone sinner, such as me, Right home to G.o.d.
But ah! I cannot tell, or sing, or know, The fulness of that love whilst here below, Yet my poor vessel I may freely bring; O thou who art of love the living spring, My vessel fill.
I _am_ an empty vessel! scarce one thought Or look of love to thee I've ever brought; Yet, I may come and come again to thee With this--the contrite sinner's truthful plea-- "_Thou lovest me!_"
Oh! _fill_ me, Jesus! Saviour! with thy love!
My woes but drive me to the fount above: Thither may I in childlike faith draw nigh, And never to another fountain fly But unto thee!
And when, my Jesus, thy dear face I see, When at that lofty throne I bend the knee, Then of thy love--in all its breadth and length, Its height and depth, and everlasting strength-- My soul shall sing.
--Mary Shekelnot.
SEEING JESUS
I would see Jesus. As I muse, and, thinking, Grow amazed--bewildered with a strange delight, My faith is roused, my spirit seemeth drinking A foretaste of that ever-longed-for sight.
I know that I _shall_ see him; in that hour When he from fleshly bonds release doth give, Earth's mists dispersing at his word of power, Then shall I look upon my G.o.d and live!
O blessed hope! O glorious aspiration!
A little while and I the Christ shall see!
A patient waiting for the full salvation-- Then shall I know my Lord as he knows me.
I have seen the face of Jesus: Tell me not of aught beside.
I have heard the voice of Jesus: All my soul is satisfied.
SHE BROUGHT HER BOX OF ALABASTER
She brought her box of alabaster; The precious spikenard filled the room With honor worthy of the Master, A costly, rare, and rich perfume.
Her tears for sin fell hot and thickly On his dear feet, outstretched and bare; Unconscious how, she wiped them quickly With the long ringlets of her hair.
And richly fall those raven tresses Adown her cheek, like willow leaves, As stooping still, with fond caresses, She plies her task of love, and grieves.
Oh may we thus, like loving Mary, Ever our choicest offerings bring, Nor grudging of our toil, nor chary Of costly service to our King.
Methinks I hear from Christian lowly Some hallowed voice at evening rise, Or quiet morn, or in the holy Unclouded calm of Sabbath skies;
I bring my box of alabaster, Of earthly loves I break the shrine, And pour affections, purer, vaster, On that dear head, those feet of thine.
The joys I prized, the hopes I cherished, The fairest flowers my fancy wove, Behold my fondest idols perished, Receive the incense of my love!
What though the scornful world, deriding, Such waste of love, of service, fears?
Still let me pour, through taunt and chiding, The rich libation of my tears.
I bring my box of alabaster; Accepted let the offering rise!