A GREAT thing, Lord, I ask-a very great thing,
Like to the standard after which I ask it;
It is, that Thou wouldst grant me-not according
To my deservings, Lord, for these are vileness,
Nor aught that in myself I ever felt or thought,
Or in Thy saints have seen, or from my teachers learnt,
Nor even yet as "God is rich in mercy,”
For that I have, but as He's rich in glory;
That is the standard now; by that I beg.
What more can I—what more can creature crave?
For what of all Thine excellence most various,
Wisdom, love, truth, or power, is not found here?
The very wealth of Thy whole glorious being,
Thou, the all-glorious One! Such is the standard,
And, as the standard, so is my request
Most 'high and various yet is its burden one:
Even that my Lord and Savior in my heart
May make abode, and never more go out.
That He is in me, Lord, I am not doubting,
And many a year has been, and I in Him;
But in my heart, that He may there abide;
That is the panting. Inside my inmost heart,
As bridegroom in his bride's, or child in mother's,
And each and all affections that in me
Are strongest, tenderest, may about Him twine,
That I may know, and feel, and never have to doubt
He that in God's bosom dwells in my heart dwells
God's Christ, my Jesus, in my heart of hearts;
There dwells He now; no more so far away,
To seek, and find, and fetch, as once so often:
But in me staying, His own loved and loving self;
So that my heart's affections, with great gladness,
Like eager, duteous maids, may wait upon Him;
And thus, whichever way I look within myself,
There I may see Jesus, Jesus, always Jesus;
And He may fire me, melt me, and constrain,
So that His love shall be my joy, my power, my life;
And as that house was filled with odor of the ointment,
E'en so may my whole soul of Jesus savor,
And I that love may know which passeth knowledge,
And knowing it, may show how much we one another love,
First, Jesus me (even as the Father Him)
Seeking that His own joy may be my joy,
And that the glory given to Him may be mine too,
Even as the curse, my due, went all to Him,
When loving me, Himself for me He gave.
Then, showing thus how much by Him I'm loved,
I would both greatly love and show that too;
For both are justly His, even to the end
Of my capacity of mind, and heart, and will.
But oh! a far off Christ I cannot bear
A Christ believed in, that had saved my soul,
Died for my sin, and now to heaven has gone,
Sent down His Spirit, and me His member made,
This, and this only known, I cannot bear;
For so unfit it seems that He should be so much
And yet not more-my all, and yet not "ALL IN ALL”
Unfit that I should have so many Christless thoughts,
So many feelings kindled at other fires,
By other fuel fed than Christ's own love.
I cannot bear it Lord. Oh! take this heart—
This heart so empty, wintry, and oppressed.
See, it stands open. Enter it who may,
Yet Thou alone art welcome. Jesus, come
And take possession, for it is Thine own;
It waits, it pants, it breaks for only Thee.
Come, then, and dwell herein, as well Thou canst.
I say no more. Thou understand'st it all.
Now grant it, O my God, according to that standard-
That highest, best of measures, "THE RICHES OF THY GLORY.”