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!
These things belong to youth,
And are its natural right -
My dress, my pastimes and my friends,
The merry and the bright.
My Father’s heart is kind!
He will not count it ill
That my small corner of the world
Should please and hold me 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?
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!
M. Mauro (excerpted)