(Rom. 1:7.)
Thou lovest me! And yet Thy child
Is wayward, foolish, oft defiled;
Is slow to learn and dull to hold,
Quick to forget what Thou hast told;
In service feeble, seeking ease
Ofttimes, instead of Thee to please;
Thus poor my record e'er will be,
And yet, O God, Thou lovest me!
Thou lovest me, because that love
Is in Thee, of Thee, yea, above
All acts. Love's self is all Thine own!
Thou, God, art love; Thou, love alone!
Hadst Thou but waited for my call,
Or love in me, then not at all
Had I this purest ecstasy
Known ever, that Thou lovest me!
Thou lovest me with that rich heart
That sought its objects far apart
From all that's winning, all that's good,
Thou lovest, just because Thou art God:
Thus Thou and I the story tell,
Spanning all distance possible;
I, nothing; Thou, infinity;
I, hateful; but Thou lovest me!
Thou lovest me! yes, Thou, God, Thou!
Thyself told out completely now-
Thy holiness, Thy majesty;
Yet this Thou addest, Thou lovest me!
Me! me the bad, without one claim,
Whose fellowship and touch were shame;
In this prevailest Thou mightily,
Thou takest no taint by loving me!
Nor is it shame to love me so!
None but Thou, God, durst stoop so low;
Because Thou art Thou! Thy glory this,
The high prerogative of bliss
Like thine-Thyself the bliss-to love
With grand imperial love, to move
With sovereign will, and so to be
All things to me by loving me.
Thou lovest me, shall be my boast,
Whenever the foe annoys me most;
Parades each circumstance of ill,
And magnifies the griefs I feel;
Intensifies the bitterness
Of trials, talks of my distress,
As though I could forsaken be !
I know, I know Thou lovest me!
Yes, he will speak of wrath, of rod,
Blaspheme Thee to my fears, my God!
Make light my gains, enlarge on loss;
My soul makes answer, "There's the cross! "
Beyond that wrath can never come;
Upon it Christ met all my doom;
I shout the paean, " I am free! "
For there I find Thou lovest me!
Thou lovest me! And that shall stand
Deeper than sea, firmer than land,
'Gainst all that Satan can evoke,
'Gainst destitution, sorrow, stroke,
Scorn, tribulation, hate of man,
And ways of Thine I cannot scan;
I see, above all mystery,
This one clear fact, Thou lovest me!
This settles every doubt and fear;
Makes me a happy worshiper;
Gives to the weary feet a spring;
Makes the face shine, the tongue to sing;
Gives conscience, too, a clear release,
The heart a confidence and peace;
Fills every day and hour with glee- .
The joy of heaven-Thou lovest me!
That I am so beloved of God,
Must form my manners on the road
I journey, till I meet Thy Son, My Lord, who all
Thy love has shown; Must separate from world and sin,
From every path that He's not in;
Incite to toil, bring victory;
The only power, Thou lovest me!
And how Thy love invites my love!
Draws my whole soul toward Thee to move!
Makes possible to faith Thy facts
And all assurances! Thine acts,
The most astounding, no more strange "
Can be, since I'm within their range
By knowing Thee, through love so free,
By knowing how Thou lovest me!
It is enough; no element
I want, to give my heart content,
I sit within this love's pure glow
With great delight, and waiting so,
The certain coming of my Lord,
So clearly told in love's pure word,
Then the full flow of life shall be
In heaven as here, Thou lovest me!