I cannot give it up,
The little world I know —
The innocent delights of youth,
The things I cherish so!
’Tis true, I love my Lord
And long to do His will;
But oh, I may enjoy the world
And be a Christian still!
And yet, “outside the camp” —
’Twas there my Saviour died!
It was the world that cast Him forth
And saw Him crucified;
Can I take part with those
Who nailed Him to the tree?
And where His name is never praised,
Is that the place for me?
Farewell! Henceforth my place
Is with the Lamb who died;
My Saviour! While I have Thy love,
What can I want beside?
Thyself, blest Lord, art now
My free and loving choice,
In whom, though now I see Thee not,
Believing, I rejoice.
Lord Jesus! Let me dwell
“Outside the camp” with Thee!
Since Thou art there, then there alone
Is peace and rest for me;
Thy dear reproach to bear
I’ll count my highest gain,
Till Thou return, rejected One,
To take Thy power and reign!
Margaret Mauro (age 22)