I give thee up my weakness That oft distrust hath bred, That thy indwelling power May thus be perfected. I give the love the sweetest Thy goodness grants to me; Take it, and make it meet, Lord, For offering to thee. Smile, and the very shadows In thy blest light shall shine; Take thou my heart, Lord Jesus, For thou hast made it thine. Thou knowest my soul's ambition, For thou hast changed its aim (The world's reproach I fear not) To share a Saviour's shame. Outside the camp to suffer; Within the veil to meet, And hear Thy softest whisper From out the mercy-seat. Thou bear'st me in thy bosom, Amidst thy jewels worn, Upon thy hands deep graven By arms of love upborne. Rescued from sin's destruction, Ransomed from death and hell; Complete in Thee, Lord Jesus: Thou hast done all things well. Oh, deathless love that bought me! Oh, price beyond my ken! Oh, Life that hides my own life E'en from my fellow-men! Now fashion, form and fill me With light and love divine; So, one with Thee, Lord Jesus, I'm thine--forever thine! I IN THEE AND THOU IN ME I am but clay in thy hands, but Thou art the all-loving artist; Passive I lie in thy sight, yet in my self-hood I strive So to embody the life and the love thou ever impartest, That in my sphere of the finite I may be truly alive. Knowing Thou needest this form, as I thy divine inspiration, Knowing thou shapest the clay with a vision and purpose divine, So would I answer each touch of thy hand in its loving creation, That in my conscious life thy power and beauty may shine. Reflecting the noble intent Thou hast in forming thy creatures; Waking from sense into life of the soul, and the image of thee; Working with thee in thy work to model humanity's features Into the likeness of God, myself from myself I would free. One with all human existence, no one above or below me; Lit by Thy wisdom and love, as roses are steeped in the morn; Growing from clay to a statue, from statue to flesh, till thou know me Wrought into manhood celestial, and in thine image reborn. So in thy love will I trust, bringing me sooner or later Past the dark screen that divides these shows of the finite from Thee. Thine, thine only, this warm dear life, O loving Creator! Thine the invisible future, born of the present, must be. --Christopher Pearse Cranch. ON THEE MY HEART IS RESTING On Thee my heart is resting: Ah! this is rest indeed! What else, Almighty Saviour, Can a poor sinner need? Thy light is all my wisdom, Thy love is all my stay; Our Father's home in glory Draws nearer every day.