A Suppliant

Lo, these many years I lay, As a suppliant to my God, Bore the Cross upon my breast, Bowed my head beneath the rod.

I have kept my temple fair, I have watched it day and night, Lo, my cruse of oil is full, And my lamp of faith is bright!

I have knelt these many years, Lord, and I am kneeling still; On my spirit send Thy grace, On my body work Thy will.

For at last I shall arise, I shall stand before Thy throne, Saying: “Lord, the night is past, And I come to claim my own!”

Saying: “I have served Thee well, Great my fathers’ God and mine, I have kept Thy temple white, And the lamp of faith is Thine.

“I have knelt my whole years long, Now I must arise and stand; There is one among the lost Who shall clasp me by the hand.

“All the prayers that I have prayed Were as naught could this not be, That wherever he has lain He might stretch his hand to me.

“All the years that I have bowed, Kneeling there, I knelt in vain, Could I not in heaven or hell Look and see his face again.

“I shall hold his hand in mine When I make my prayer to Thee. ‘Lord, as one and not as twain, Deal with him and deal with me.’”