Adapted
“Mary, which also sat at Jesus’ feet, and heard His word....But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:39-42).
Oft comes to me a blessed hour,
A wondrous hour and still —
With empty hands I sit me down,
No more to work or will.
Now all my labored thoughts have ceased,
I rest me at Thy feet,
And calmed by Heaven’s eternal peace,
I hear Thy words so sweet.
Erewhile I reasoned of Thy truth,
I searched with toil and care;
From morn to night I tilled my field,
And yet my field was bare.
Now, fed with corn from fields of Heaven,
The fruit of hands Divine,
I pray no prayer, for all is given,
The Bread of God is mine.
There lie my books — for all I sought
My heart possesses now.
Blest words are they which tell Thy love,
That love itself art Thou.
One line I read — and then no more —
I close the book to see
No more the symbol and the sign,
But Christ revealed to me.
I sit, an infant, at Thy feet,
Where moments teach me more
Than all the toil, and all the books
Of all the ages hoar.
And thus my worship is, delight —
My joy to see Thy face,
With folded hands and silent lips
Within Thy holy place.