“Oh! the power and the joy of being nothing, having nothing, and knowing nothing but a glorified Christ up there in heaven, and of being careful for nothing but the honor of His sweet name down here on earth.”
Oh to be nothing—nothing,
Only to lie at His feet
A broken, emptied vessel,
Thus for His use made meet!
Emptied, that He may fill me
As to His service I go,
Broken, so that unhindered
Through me His life may flow.
Oh to be nothing—nothing,
An arrow hid in His hand,
Or a messenger at His gateway
Waiting for His command:
Only an instrument ready
For Him to use at His will;
And should He not require me,
Willing to wait there still.
Oh to be nothing—nothing,
Though painful the humbling be;
Though it lay me low in the sight of those
Who are now perhaps praising me.
I would rather be nothing—nothing,
That to Him be their voices raised,
Who alone is the fountain of blessing.
Who alone is meet to be praised.
Yet e’en as my pleading rises,
A voice seems with mine to blend,
And whispers in loving accents—
“I call thee not servant, but friend,
Fellow-worker with Me, I call thee,
Sharing My sorrows and joy;
Fellow-heir to the glory I have above,
To treasure without alloy.”
Oh, love so free, so boundless!
Which, lifting me, lays me lower
At the footstool of Jesus, my risen Lord,
To worship and adore;
Which fills me with deeper longing
To have nothing dividing my heart,
My “all” given up to Jesus,
Not “keeping back a part.”
Thine may I be, Thine only,
Till called by Thee to share
The glorious heavenly mansions
Thou art gone before to prepare.
My heart and soul are yearning
To see Thee face to face,
With unfettered tongue to praise Thee
For such heights and depths of grace.