John iv. 7.
The
hart panteth after the waters,
The
dying for life that
departs;
The
Lord in His glory for sinners,
For
the love of rebellious
hearts.
Call
back all the days of the ages,
All
snow-flakes come down from
above;
All
flowers of summers departed,
But
think not to measure His
love.
Behold
Him, O soul, where He told it,
Pale,
bleeding, and bearing thy
sin;
He
knocketh, saith, "Open, beloved,
I
pray thee to let Me come
in.
Behold,
I have borne all the judgment,
Thy
sins, O beloved, are
gone;
Forgotten,
forgotten for ever,
God
seeketh, but findeth not
one.
"Behold,
with what labour I won thee,
Behold
in My hands and My
feet,
The
tale of my measureless sorrow--
Of
love that made sorrow so
sweet.
A
flax-thread in oceans of fire
How
soon swallowed up would it
be!
Yet
sooner in oceans of mercy
The
sinner that cometh to
Me."
H. Suso.
