My sun has set, I dwell In darkness as a dead man out of sight; And none remains, not one, that I should tell To him mine evil plight This bitter night. I will make fast my door That hollow friends may trouble me no more. 'Friend, open to Me.'--Who is this that calls? Nay, I am deaf as are my walls: Cease crying, for I will not hear 10 Thy cry of hope or fear. Others were dear, Others forsook me: what art thou indeed That I should heed Thy lamentable need? Hungry should feed, Or stranger lodge thee here? 'Friend, My Feet bleed. Open thy door to Me and comfort Me.' I will not open, trouble me no more. 20 Go on thy way footsore, I will not rise and open unto thee. 'Then is it nothing to thee? Open, see Who stands to plead with thee. Open, lest I should pass thee by, and thou One day entreat My Face And howl for grace, And I be deaf as thou art now. Open to Me.' Then I cried out upon him: Cease, 30 Leave me in peace: Fear not that I should crave Aught thou mayst have. Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more, Lest I arise and chase thee from my door. What, shall I not be let Alone, that thou dost vex me yet? But all night long that voice spake urgently: 'Open to Me.' Still harping in mine ears: 40 'Rise, let Me in.' Pleading with tears: 'Open to Me that I may come to thee.' While the dew dropped, while the dark hours were cold: 'My Feet bleed, see My Face, See My Hands bleed that bring thee grace, My Heart doth bleed for thee, Open to Me.' So till the break of day: Then died away 50 That voice, in silence as of sorrow; Then footsteps echoing like a sigh Passed me by, Lingering footsteps slow to pass. On the morrow I saw upon the grass Each footprint marked in blood, and on my door The mark of blood for evermore. LONG BARREN Thou who didst hang upon a barren tree, My God, for me; Though I till now be barren, now at length Lord, give me strength To bring forth fruit to Thee. Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn, Spitting and scorn; Though I till now have put forth thorns, yet now Strengthen me Thou That better fruit be borne. 10 Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots, Vine of sweet fruits, Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf, Of thousands Chief, Feed Thou my feeble shoots. IF ONLY