Christ Our All in All

“The ransomed of the Lord.”

Thy lovely saints do bring Thee love, Incense and joy and gold; Fair star with star, fair dove with dove, Beloved by Thee of old. I, Master, neither star nor dove, Have brought Thee sins and tears; Yet I too bring a little love Amid my flaws and fears. A trembling love that faints and fails Yet still is love of Thee, A wondering love that hopes and hails Thy boundless Love of me; Love kindling faith and pure desire, Love following on to bliss, A spark, O Jesu, from Thy fire, A drop from Thine abyss.

Lord, we are rivers running to Thy sea, Our waves and ripples all derived from Thee: A nothing we should have, a nothing be, Except for Thee.

Sweet are the waters of Thy shoreless sea, Make sweet our waters that make haste to Thee; Pour in Thy sweetness, that ourselves may be Sweetness to Thee.

“In exceeding bitter cry.”

Contempt and pangs and haunting fears— Too late for hope, too late for ease, Too late for rising from the dead; Too late, too late to bend my knees, Or bow my head, Or weep, or ask for tears.

Hark!...One I hear Who calls to me: “Give Me thy thorn and grief and scorn, Give Me thy ruin and regret. Press on thro’ darkness toward the morn: One loves thee yet: Have I forgotten thee?”

Lord, Who art Thou? Lord, is it Thou My Lord and God Lord Jesus Christ? How said I that I sat alone And desolate and unsufficed? Surely a stone Would raise Thy praises now!

O Lord, when Thou didst call me, didst Thou know My heart disheartened thro’ and thro’, Still hankering after Egypt full in view Where cucumbers and melons grow? —“Yea, I knew.”—

But, Lord, when Thou didst choose me, didst Thou know How marred I was and withered too, Nor rose for sweetness nor for virtue rue, Timid and rash, hasty and slow? —“Yea, I knew.”—

My Lord, when Thou didst love me, didst Thou know How weak my efforts were, how few, Tepid to love and impotent to do, Envious to reap while slack to sow? —“Yea, I knew.”—

Good Lord, Who knowest what I cannot know And dare not know, my false, my true, My new, my old; Good Lord, arise and do If loving Thou hast known me so. —“Yea, I knew.”—

“Thou, God, seest me.”

Ah me, that I should be Exposed and open evermore to Thee!— “Nay, shrink not from My light, And I will make thee glorious in My sight With the overcoming Shulamite.”— Yea, Lord, Thou moulding me.

...Without a hiding-place To hide me from the terrors of Thy Face.— “Thy hiding-place is here In Mine own heart, wherefore the Roman spear For thy sake I accounted dear.”— My Jesus! King of Grace.

...Without a veil, to give Whiteness before Thy Face that I might live.— “Am I too poor to dress Thee in My royal robe of righteousness? Challenge and prove My Love’s excess.”— Give, Lord, I will receive.

...Without a pool wherein To wash my piteous self and make me clean.— “My Blood hath washed away Thy guilt, and still I wash thee day by day: Only take heed to trust and pray.”— Lord, help me to begin.

Lord Jesus, who would think that I am Thine? Ah, who would think Who sees me ready to turn back or sink, That Thou art mine?

I cannot hold Thee fast tho’ Thou art mine: Hold Thou me fast, So earth shall know at last and heaven at last That I am Thine.