Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By Psalms and Hymns. VII. “Jesus, I my cross have taken”Henry Francis Lyte (1793–1847)
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All to leave and follow Thee;
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou, from hence, my all shalt be.
Perish every fond ambition,
All I’ve sought, or hoped, or known:
Yet how rich is my condition!
God and Heaven are still mine own.
They have left my Saviour too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me:—
Thou art not, like them, untrue.
And, while Thou shalt smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love, and might,
Foes may hate, and friends may shun me:
Show Thy face, and all is bright.
Come disaster, scorn, and pain!
In Thy service pain is pleasure,
With Thy favour, loss is gain!
I have called Thee, Abba Father!
I have stayed my heart on Thee,
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
All must work for good to me.
’Twill but drive me to Thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest!
O! ’tis not in grief to harm me,
While Thy love is left to me!
O! ’twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmix’d with Thee.
Rise o’er sin and fear and care;
Joy to find, in every station,
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee:
What a Father’s smile is thine:
What a Saviour died to win thee:
Child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?
Armed by faith and winged by prayer:
Heaven’s eternal day’s before thee:
God’s own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thine earthly mission:
Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days:
Hope soon change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.