I may not comprehend, O Lord,
Thy great and wondrous plan,
In all its depth and breadth, to save
Poor, sinful, fallen man.
My finite mind's too narrow for
The Infinite;
And though I strive, the problem is
Too intricate:
Yet, in my little measure,
I count Thy Truth great treasure.

I may not search the starry depths
Of Thy great universe;
I may not sound the awful depths
Of sin and its dread curse;
I cannot lift the gauzy veil
Which hides from me-
In blest obscurity indeed-
What is to be:
But, in my little measure,
I count that faith's a treasure.

I may not follow Thee, O Lord,
To dark Gethsemane;
In awe, I breathless stand apart
From Thy great agony;
I shudder at the darkness deep
Of Calvary,
And wonder Thou couldst bear so much,
O Lord, for me!
And while I cannot measure
These depths, they're full of treasure.

I may not know Thee as I should
In all Thou art to me;
I may not lean as hard, O Lord,
As Thou hast bidden me;
I may not seek Thy footprints in
The hidden way,
Ofttimes because the blinding tears
Obscure the way:
Yet, in my faulty measure,
I count Thee all my treasure.
I may not cling so close to Thee,
While all the way is bright,
That I can breast the heavy storm
That shadows sorrow's night,
And rest in undisturbed repose
Upon Thy breast.
I own it, Lord, to Thee alone-
Thou knowest the rest:
Yet, in my feeble measure,
Thy mercy is my treasure.

I cannot comprehend Thy deep
And lasting love for me:
My Father, will it e'er remain
A hidden mystery?
No, I shall know in that bright world
As I am known.
Though I may never know just why
Thou lovest Thine own:
Still, in the fullest measure,
Thy love will be my treasure.

Could aught of earth detain me here,
When Thou, O Lord, shall come ?
How worthless seems the richest gain
When one is nearing home!
Though what Thou'st been and art to me
I may not know
On earth in all its blessedness
And depth; yet, oh,
I'll know in God's full measure,
Thee, Lord, as all my treasure.

H. McD.