All my desire Thou grantest, whatsoe'er I ask! Was ever mythic tale or dream So bold as this reality,--this stream Of boundless blessings flowing full and free? Yet more than I have thought or asked of Thee, Out of Thy royal bounty still Thou givest me.
Now I will turn to my own land, and tell What I myself have seen and heard of Thee. And give Thine own sweet message, 'Come and see!' And yet in heart and mind for ever dwell With Thee, my King of Peace, in loyal rest, Within the fair pavilion of Thy presence blest.
'Surely in what place my Lord the King shall be, whether in death or life, even there also will thy servant be.'--2 _Sam._ xv. 21.
'Where I am, there shall also my servant be.'--_John_ xii. 26.
My Master, they have wronged Thee and Thy love! They only told me I should find the path A Via Dolorosa all the way! Even Thy sweetest singers only sang Of pressing onward through the same sharp thorns, With bleeding footsteps, through the chill dark mist, Following and struggling till they reach the light, The rest, the sunshine of the far beyond. The anthems of the pilgrimage were set In most pathetic minors, exquisite, Yet breathing sadness more than any praise; Thy minstrels let the fitful breezes make Æolian moans on their entrusted harps, Until the listeners thought that this was all The music Thou hadst given. And so the steps That halted where the two ways met and crossed, The broad and narrow, turned aside in fear, Thinking the radiance of their youth must pass In sombre shadows if they followed Thee; Hearing afar such echoes of one strain, The cross, the tribulation, and the toil, The conflict, and the clinging in the dark. What wonder that the dancing feet are stayed From entering the only path of peace! Master, forgive them! Tune their harps anew, And put a new song in their mouths for Thee, And make Thy chosen people joyful in Thy love.
Lord Jesus, Thou hast trodden once for all The Via Dolorosa,--and for us! No artist power or minstrel gift may tell The cost to Thee of each unfaltering step, When love that passeth knowledge led Thee on, Faithful and true to God, and true to us. And now, belovèd Lord, Thou callest us To follow Thee, and we will take Thy word About the path which Thou hast marked for us. Narrow indeed it is! Who does not choose The narrow track upon the mountain side, With ever-widening view, and freshening air, And honeyed heather, rather than the road, With smoothest breadth of dust and loss of view, Soiled blossoms not worth gathering, and the noise Of wheels instead of silence of the hills, Or music of the waterfalls? Oh, why Should they misrepresent Thy words, and make 'Narrow' synonymous with 'very hard'? For Thou, Divinest Wisdom, Thou hast said Thy ways are ways of pleasantness, and all Thy paths are peace; and that the path of him Who wears Thy perfect robe of righteousness Is as the light that shineth more and more Unto the perfect day. And Thou hast given An olden promise, rarely quoted now,[footnote: Job xxvi. 15.] Because it is too bright for our weak faith: 'If they obey and serve Him, they shall spend Days in prosperity, and they shall spend Their years in pleasures.' All because Thy days Were full of sorrow, and Thy lonely years Were passed in grief's acquaintance--all for us!