Classic Poem

O LOVE Divine, of all that is
The sweetest still and best,
Fain would I come and rest to-night
Upon Thy tender breast.

As tired of sin as any child
Was ever tired of play,
When evening's hush has folded in
The noises of the day;

When just for very weariness
The little one will creep
Into the arms that have no joy
Like holding him in sleep;

And looking upward to Thy face,
So gentle, sweet and strong
In all its looks for those who love,
So pitiful of wrong,

I pray Thee turn me not away,
For, sinful though I be,
Thou knowest every thing I need
And all my need of Thee.

And yet the spirit in my heart
Says, Wherefore should I pray
That Thou shouldst seek me with Thy love,
Since Thou dost seek alway?

And dost not even wait until
I urge my steps to Thee;
But in the darkness of my life
Art coming still to me.

I pray not, then, because I would;
I pray because I must;
There is no meaning in my prayer
But thankfulness and trust.

I would not have Thee otherwise
Than what Thou ever art;
Be still Thyself, and then I know
We cannot live apart.

But still Thy love will beckon me
And still Thy strength will come,
In many ways to bear me up
And bring me to my home.

And Thou wilt hear the thought I mean,
And not the words I say;
Wilt hear the thanks among the words
That only seem to pray;

As if Thou wert not always good,
As if Thy loving care
Could ever miss me in the midst
Of this Thy temple fair.

For, if I ever doubted Thee,
How could I any more!
This very night my tossing bark
Has reached the happy shore;

And still, for all my sighs, my heart
Has sung itself to rest,
O Love Divine, most far and near,
Upon Thy tender breast.