ISA. 42:3.
Behold My Servant, saith the Lord,
The One whom I uphold;
Elect according to My word,
Whose goings were of old.
Who doth His flock in pastures feed,
And by still waters takes;
He will not break a bruised reed,
Nor quench the smoking flax.
Him Nicodemus sought by night;
At Sychar’s well, by day,
Samaria’s daughter heard aright
The Lord of glory say:
“I living water give indeed,
That thirst for ever slakes;
I will not break a bruised reed,
Nor quench the smoking flax.”
The leper sought a cure to find,
Before Him, as he lay;
One reached His garment hem behind,
And healed went away;
“Whom I make free is free indeed,”
He said—the truth so makes—
“I will not break a bruised reed,
Nor quench the smoking flax.”
O Lord, Thy love divine we own,
The riches of Thy grace;
While myriads bow before Thy throne,
And seraphs veil their face.
To us the word is sweet indeed,
And of Thy grace partakes:
“He will not break a bruised reed,
Nor quench the smoking flax.”
T. I.