YOU ask me how I gave my heart to Christ?
I do not know.
There came a yearning for Him in my soul
So long ago.
I found earth’s flowers would fade and die,
I wept for something that could satisfy;
And then — and then, somehow I seemed to dare
To lift my broken heart to Him in prayer.
I do not know — I cannot tell you how;
I only know He is my Saviour now.
You ask me when I gave my heart to Christ?
I cannot tell;
The day, or just the hour, I do not now
Remember well.
It must have been when I was all alone
The light of His forgiving Spirit shone
Into my heart, so clouded o’er with sin;
I think — I think ‘twas then I let Him in.
I do not know — I cannot tell you when;
I only know He is so dear since then.
You ask me where I gave my heart to Christ?
I cannot say;
That sacred place has faded from my sight
As yesterday.
Perhaps He thought it better I should not
Remember where. How I should love that spot!
I think I could not tear myself away,
For I should want Forever there to stay.
I do not know — I cannot tell you where;
I only know He came and blessed me there.
You ask me why I gave my heart to Christ?
I can reply;
It is a wondrous story; listen, while
I tell you why
My heart was drawn, at length, to seek His face:
I was alone, I had no resting place,
I heard of how He loved me, with a love
Of depth so great — of height so far above
All human ken, I longed such love to share,
And sought it then, upon my knees in prayer.
You ask me why I thought this living Christ
Would heed my prayer?
I knew He died upon the Cross for me —
I nailed Him there!
I heard His dying cry: “Father, forgive!”
I saw Him drink death’s cup that I might live.
My head was bowed upon my breast in shame,
He called me — and in penitence I came.
He heard my prayer, I cannot tell you how,
Nor when, nor where; why, I have told you now.
—Selected.