The Heavenly Bridegroom
That He is mine and I am His,
Oh! wondrous thought.
I am so poor, so weak, so lowly,
can there aught
Of worthiness in me be found,
that He should love
And seek me for His Bride? I
hear His voice, “My
Dove,
Thou art all fair, My Spouse,
there is no spot in thee;
Thy speech is comely, better is
thy love to Me
Than wine! Thine eyes as
Heshbon's fish-pools, and like flocks
Upon Mount Gilead are thy spiced
and flower-decked locks.
The winter's past, My Dove,
come, come with Me away,
Far spent the night, make ready for thy
nuptial day!”
My heart responds,
“Throughout the many-centuried
night
I've longed for Thee. I've
waited for the dawning light;
And I have laid Thee like sweet
myrrh upon my breast,
Thine arm beneath my weary head
hath brought me rest.
Thou whom my soul doth love, Thy
countenance is fair
To see within the secret places
of the stair;
Thy head is like fine gold, how
beautiful Thy feet!
Thine eyes as doves' eyes, and
Thy lips with honey sweet.
I rise, my Lord, I leave my
father's house, behold
My Robe of Righteousness, my
raiment of wrought gold!
Oh! wealth of love divine, that
claims me for Thine own.
Oh! miracle of grace, to seat me
on Thy Throne.
Oh! glorious future hopes, Oh!
bliss beyond compare,
Through all eternity Thy love and work to
share!”
—G.W.S.
June 25, 1917.