Ps. cxlix. 3.
To praise Him in
the dance! O glorious day!
The
pilgrim journey done--
No more press
forward on the weary way,
For
all is reached and won!
His Hand at last,
the Hand once pierced for me,
For
ever holdeth mine;
O Lord, no songs,
no harps of heaven wil be
Sweet
as one word of Thine.
Lord, altogether
lovely! then at last
High
shall the guerdon be,
Thy kiss outweigh
the weary ages past
Of
hearts that brake for Thee.
. . . . . .
Yet now I know Thee
as the hidden Bread,
The
living One, who died--
Who sitteth at my
table--by my bed--
Who
walketh at my side.
I know Thee as the
fountain of deep bliss,
Whereof
one drop shall make
The joys of all the
world as bitterness,
My
Lord, for Thy sweet sake.
Lord, Thou hast
loved me--and henceforth to me
Earth's
noonday is but gloom;
My soul sails forth
on the eternal sea,
And
leaves the shore of doom.
I pass within the
glory even now,
Where
shapes and words are not,
For joy that
passeth words, O Lord, art Thou,
A
bliss that passeth thought.
I enter there, for
Thou hast borne away
The
burden of my sin;
With conscience
clear as heaven's unclouded day
Thy
courts I enter in.
Heaven now for
me--for ever Christ and heaven--
The
endless NOW begun--
No
promise--but a gift eternal given,
Because
the work is done.
H. Suso.
