1918_The Heavenly Bridegroom - poems (Niebiański Oblubieniec).pdf - Autorzy z kręgu WTS - WTLibrary

THE HITaAVBNLY BRIDWROOM

TKE 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 [flocks

Than wine. Thine eyes as Heshbon's fish-pools, and like

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 aweet.

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!"

THIS TOO WILL PASS!

Poor heart, break not, though cruel be thy wound,-

This too will pass!

The weariest day will end in sunset light,

And dawn must follow e'en the darkest night!

Nor drink too deeply of joy's honeyed cup,-

This too will pass!

Caressing hands will lose their loving touch,

And words mean nothing, that once meant so much.

Ah, then, whate'er thy state, seek thou content,-

This will not pass!

Thy rest in God, He only knows and cares,

His heart of love thine every sorrow shares!

-4. w. s.

May 16, 1916.

TRUE LOVE

I'm waiting not till thou art dead,

To weave my garlands round thy head,

But while thou liv'st I'll send a rose

Or e'en the humblest flower that blows,

*Twill serve to tell thee of my love,

Pure love that comes from Heaven above.

-4.

W. a

April, 1917.

1918_The Heavenly Bridegroom - poems (Niebiański Oblubieniec).pdf

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