Christ was all anguish
that I might be all joy,
that I might be brought in,
trodden down as an enemy
that I might be welcomed as a friend,
surrendered to hell’s worst
that I might attain heaven’s best,
that I might be clothed,
that I might be healed,
that I might drink,
that I might be comforted,
made a shame
that I might inherit glory,
that I might have eternal light.
My Saviour wept
that all tears might be wiped from my eyes,
that I might have endless song,
endured all pain
that I might have unfading health,
bore a thorny crown
that I might have a glory-diadem,
bowed his head
that I might uplift mine,
that I might receive welcome,
closed his eyes in death
that I might gaze on unclouded brightness,
that I might for ever live.
O Father, who spared not thine only Son that thou mightest spare me,
All this transfer thy love designed and accomplished;
Help me to adore thee by lips and life.
O that my every breath might be ecstatic praise, my every step buoyant with delight. . .
Friday, April 10, 2009
From The Valley of Vision (pp. 76-77),