YES, I was living to myself―was dead;
Self, with its hopes and dreams, was all I had;
But soon the Lord fulfilled my prayer to know
The power of His Cross:—’twas death below.
I asked contrition, and He sent me pain;
For purity, but anguish came again;
I asked I might be meek―He broke my heart!
I asked―I knew not what―the better part;
I asked to know what death was to the world,
And quickly all my living hopes were spoiled;
I asked to be like Him, His image bear,
He placed me in a furnace, sitting there
Like one refining silver, till He see
The reflex of His image bright in me;
I asked that I the daily cross might bear―
It lacerated me―the wounds I wear;
I blindly prayed, not knowing how, nor what,
He took me at my word, ―it mattered not;
Then I began to shrink from following near,
And well-nigh prayed Him to depart, through fear:
To suffer was not pleasing to the flesh;
I feared to pray, lest suffering come afresh.
But I had gone too far. On I must go―
The virtues of His Cross had pierced me through.
In me His promise now fulfilled must be,
“I, lifted up, will draw all men to me.”
Ah! I had only heard of love; but now
I feel it―oh, I feel its living glow!
He fastened on me such a look of love,
Withering to self, tender, all words above!
Follow I must, whatever may betide;
I love the Cross, I shelter in His side―
That riven side, from which the glory beams,
Whence life and healing flow in living streams.
Only by gazing I become like Him―
His name shines out through me―He dwells within.
My calling is to live with Him alone,
Unlike all others, lacking what they own;
Content to be by all the world despised,
Knowing that I by Him am loved and prized;
Content to be like Him, and call Him mine,
In fellowship ineffable, divine;
Happy to lose the brighter portion here
That I may gain the weight of glory there;
Happy, that when I well-nigh turned away,
His hand was on me, would not let me stray;
Happy to know that He does all in love, ―
To bear the Cross below, the crown above;
Happy that not my will, but His, be done;
Happy, in prospect of the rest of home.