The Thorn
by Martha Snell Nicholson
I stood a mendicant of
God
before His royal throne
And begged him for one priceless gift,
And begged him for one priceless gift,
which I could call my
own.
I took the gift from out
His hand,
but as I would depart
I cried, “But Lord this is a thorn
I cried, “But Lord this is a thorn
and it has pierced my
heart.
This is a strange, a hurtful
gift,
which Thou hast given
me.”
He said, “My child, I give good gifts
He said, “My child, I give good gifts
and gave My best to
thee.”
I took it home and
though at first
the cruel thorn hurt
sore,
As long years passed I learned at last
As long years passed I learned at last
to love it more and
more.
I learned He never gives
a thorn
without this added
grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside
He takes the thorn to pin aside
the veil which hides His
face.

No comments:
Post a Comment