Chapter I: Have Somewhat to Say to Thee

--_Luke_ vii. 40.

A word to me? a word for me apart
No other ear to hearken--heart to heart?
A word Thy hidden pleasure to impart?
O Master, say it!

Is it a word of love, entreating mine--
Poor recompense indeed for love divine,
Yet precious to that human Heart of Thine?
Dear Master, say it!

A word of blame? Lord, I deserve it--nay,
No word of Thine can I deserve--yet may
I know what chiding love would have Thee say?
O Master, say it!

A word to cast aside my craven fears,
And bravely bear the cross these many years
Dragged after Thee with protest and with tears?
O Master, say it!

Perchance a dreaded word, not once or twice,
But often suing for a gift of price;
Can I invite that call to sacrifice?
Yes, Master, say it!

A word from Thee the rightful course will trace,
A word from Thee the shrinking spirit brace,
A word from Thee bestow all needful grace,
O Master, say it!

No word of Thine but gives before it takes,
And taking, generous compensation makes,
And effort asking, energy awakes,
O Master, say it!

A warning maybe--frighted love’s disguise,
How stern soe’er in seeming, kindly wise,
Unveiling danger to unwary eyes?
O Master, say it!

Thy voice is ever music to mine ear,
Silence alone o’erwhelms my soul with fear
Say all, say freely what I crave to hear,
O Master, say it!

One tender word to Thomas brought belief,
One pitying word, a kingdom to a thief,
One only word would bring my soul relief,
O Master, say it!

New shape would aims, desires, affections take,
New power of sacrifice within me wake,
New need of toil and suffering for Thy sake,
O Master, say it!

One word, I know, Thou hast for me--a word
In the still hours of prayer how often heard,
Not long, perchance, its welcome sound deferred,
O Master, say it!

Word life’s incessant prayer must wrest from Thee;
Word holding my eternal destiny,
Word I must hear or perish utterly,
O Master, say it!

When past my little day of time and grace,
Lone in another world I seek my place,
And trembling fall before Thy unveiled Face,
Dear Master, say it!

_Come!_--blest recall from exile’s weary years,
Rest from the awful strife ’twixt hopes and fears,
Sweet word of welcome after toil and tears,
O Master, say it!

Though silent now, keep Thou that word in store,
The word to make me Thine for evermore;
By all Thy loving-kindness, I implore,
Dear Master, say it!