"Thou whom my soul loveth."
O Lord, Thy heart and Thine alone
Is worthy of my fullest trust:
Naught else, Lord, have I ever found
Not subject to earth's moth and rust;
The best give way to death's wide sway,
And leave me but to weep and pray.
The faithful sleep, and pass from sight-
Perchance the ocean wide
May separate relentlessly,
And wrest them from our side;
And bitter tears, and weary years,
Our daily portion oft abide.
How often, too, the heart hath bled,
When hearts so trusted turned away;
And we must walk still more alone
And be less loved than yesterday;
And ponder o'er, with memory sore,
The hopes once bright, but now no more.
Earth's cup hath bitter dregs, I know,
At most but for a few short years;
It sparkles often for the young
A little while, then ends in tears;
For earth doth groan, and makes its moan,
O'er sin, and death, and mortal fears.
The cup Thou givest, Lord, is sweet-
No bitter drop finds lodgment there;
The bitter was Thy portion once,
The sweetness now is all my share;
Thy cross, O Lord, hath drawn above
My heart and soul to meet Thy love.
No loneliness need e'er be mine,
Since Thou art ever at my side;
Death hath no power to separate,
Nor aught of earth, nor ocean wide;
Death's power is quelled for Thee, and me,
Love links us for eternity.
Oh what a refuge, Jesus' heart!
From every storm and earthly tide;
Oh what a balm for every wound
Is found in Jesus' wounded side!
There is no rest, but on Thy breast:
Lord, I would ever there abide.
Each sorrow earth hath meted me,
Each crossing of my wayward will,
Each time Thy hand correcteth me,
By these, Lord, draw me closer still
To where the tide flows deep and wide,
That only can my longing fill.
What count the petty strifes of earth?
What worth the hunger, and the loss?
What mean the disappointments here
In view of Thine atoning cross?
The all things, yea, which in Thy way
Together work for good to us.
To trust in such a heart as Thine-
To lean on arms so true, and tried,
As infant on its mother's breast,
At once at rest and satisfied!
Oh nameless bliss, what gift is this
In such a presence to abide!
What charm hath earth for thee, my heart?
What sweetness in its short-lived joys?
Its passing scenes but shift and change-
Then, gone, its perishable toys.
Lord, fix my heart where all is fair,
On what alone Thy heart enjoys.
Soon, what by faith is mine indeed,
I'll share with Thee and all Thine own;
In sweet communion, full and deep,
Unbroken by earth's fretful moan.
Then we shall be eternally,
Lord, satisfied with Thee alone.
H. McD.