rhomphaeam
Member
If Pilgrim walked a thousand leagues, o’er coals and shards of broken pain.
If once to look the narrow way, with questioned hope and self restraint.
If right and left were set before, and straight the way made good and clear.
With ever thoughts of ease did labour on, refusing all the Cross to bear.
What profit in these things would find, a man with no distain for fleshy life?
What purpose in these things would show, if comprehending nought but certain woes?
To wink sweet vanity and self repose, discomfort all and looks of being shamed,
Take nothing more than foolish gain, and in it all be found alone?
To press with joy the narrow way, makes nothing sure its course ne’er run.
Nor left nor right but straight and true, will of itself accomplish none.
Except ye first conceive to know, what lies ahead this way to go,
And by such choosing grasp this truth, that Christ Himself bore man’s reproof.
To look ahead in purpose straight, a profit for our Lord to reap.
It will be found in certain measure, the fool has run himself to gain.
But gain for self and none for Christ, is gain not all but gain for one.
Though gain had been as He did gain, would gain for all and gain indeed.
Ahead the road is made “The Cross” and so The Cross is sought for hope.
Faith and Truth that in His body won, the cost of life was borne in full.
And there is set another measure, the scales of which weigh works and deeds.
Now will that man take more concern, to labour well by Christ indeed.
Walk on walk on a thousand leagues, we labour now no more concerned.
With worthless purpose vain conceit, with faithless thoughts and foolish faith.
Cast down to furrowed ground made good, where seed will die and broken, grow.
Thirty, sixty and an hundred fold, thy portion Lord thy harvest knows.
And when by faith at journey on, obedience still remains and hopes.
Ne’er left nor right but straight and true, the fullness of thy servant makes.
To look and then to comprehend, great weights and scales are set before.
In one last cry in Hope secure. to throw ourselves upon thy rest.
For though we walk ten thousand leagues, or bear The Cross as set before.
It is The Cross behind us now, that Christ our Lord and Saviour bore.
What count we now our little done, if done in strength and of our own?
If not His strength but ours we labour, we would have laboured not at all.
Tis all His gain tis all His good. Ours the chaff before the wind.
Would better yet to labour not, than labour false ne’er true to Him.
When harvest comes and wheat and tares, are by His word made clear,
We find that tares are we and sure. what wail and cry, what gnash of teeth.
Consider Christ and all His efforts, consider Christ His labours done.
Consider God His purpose known, to bring us all to Christ His Son.
With selfish thoughts and ease we see the loss which faithless labour proves.
Consider Christ in Truth and Hope, gave His life that we might choose.
Though choice by Christ will not in measure, of just one soul by foolish labour.
It will by many as the sand, which would not go that narrow way.
And having chosen Christ and all. let Christ and all be to our choice.
Made certain by our choosing Him. The narrow way of Christ at last.
Rhomphaeam
If once to look the narrow way, with questioned hope and self restraint.
If right and left were set before, and straight the way made good and clear.
With ever thoughts of ease did labour on, refusing all the Cross to bear.
What profit in these things would find, a man with no distain for fleshy life?
What purpose in these things would show, if comprehending nought but certain woes?
To wink sweet vanity and self repose, discomfort all and looks of being shamed,
Take nothing more than foolish gain, and in it all be found alone?
To press with joy the narrow way, makes nothing sure its course ne’er run.
Nor left nor right but straight and true, will of itself accomplish none.
Except ye first conceive to know, what lies ahead this way to go,
And by such choosing grasp this truth, that Christ Himself bore man’s reproof.
To look ahead in purpose straight, a profit for our Lord to reap.
It will be found in certain measure, the fool has run himself to gain.
But gain for self and none for Christ, is gain not all but gain for one.
Though gain had been as He did gain, would gain for all and gain indeed.
Ahead the road is made “The Cross” and so The Cross is sought for hope.
Faith and Truth that in His body won, the cost of life was borne in full.
And there is set another measure, the scales of which weigh works and deeds.
Now will that man take more concern, to labour well by Christ indeed.
Walk on walk on a thousand leagues, we labour now no more concerned.
With worthless purpose vain conceit, with faithless thoughts and foolish faith.
Cast down to furrowed ground made good, where seed will die and broken, grow.
Thirty, sixty and an hundred fold, thy portion Lord thy harvest knows.
And when by faith at journey on, obedience still remains and hopes.
Ne’er left nor right but straight and true, the fullness of thy servant makes.
To look and then to comprehend, great weights and scales are set before.
In one last cry in Hope secure. to throw ourselves upon thy rest.
For though we walk ten thousand leagues, or bear The Cross as set before.
It is The Cross behind us now, that Christ our Lord and Saviour bore.
What count we now our little done, if done in strength and of our own?
If not His strength but ours we labour, we would have laboured not at all.
Tis all His gain tis all His good. Ours the chaff before the wind.
Would better yet to labour not, than labour false ne’er true to Him.
When harvest comes and wheat and tares, are by His word made clear,
We find that tares are we and sure. what wail and cry, what gnash of teeth.
Consider Christ and all His efforts, consider Christ His labours done.
Consider God His purpose known, to bring us all to Christ His Son.
With selfish thoughts and ease we see the loss which faithless labour proves.
Consider Christ in Truth and Hope, gave His life that we might choose.
Though choice by Christ will not in measure, of just one soul by foolish labour.
It will by many as the sand, which would not go that narrow way.
And having chosen Christ and all. let Christ and all be to our choice.
Made certain by our choosing Him. The narrow way of Christ at last.
Rhomphaeam
