Who like Thyself could be so patient, Lord,
With me? I know not how to ask aright;
But 'neath Thy love, Thy willingness, Thy might,
And trusting in Thy never-failing word,
What can I do but wait, while I believe
That what I ask, if best, I shall receive.

And I may come to Thee by night, by day,
With all my wants, and all my weaknesses;
My folly, and my sins-yea, all confess,
Nor could I be content to stay away;
For all this weight a weariness would be-
Unbearable, could I not come to Thee.

Oft I've no words, when most I feel my need;
But just to know Thee near, and feel Thy care,
Is ofttimes answer to my unframed prayer.
The while the very silence seems to plead,
"Empty my heart of all but Christ, and prove
It, Lord. I know that I can trust Thy love."

Which of my earthly friends could I invite
Into the secret chambers of my heart
Unflinchingly, nor bid the guest depart?
My Father, Savior, Friend, be my delight
That when alone with Thee, to let Thee speak
Thy will, Thy smallest wish my joy to seek.

Thus may it ever be-my soul above
The chilling frosts of unbelief and sin,
And let Thy presence lighten all within
My breast, and may the ardor of Thy love
Burn there, self to subdue, and keep at bay
All that would seek to steal my peace away.

H. McD