“A Great Mystery”
There is a hush in earth and sky,
The ear is free to list aright
There is a hush in earth and sky,
The ear is free to list aright
In darkness, veiling from the eye
The many-colored spells of light.
Not heralded by fire and storm,
In shadowy outline dimly seen,
Comes through the gloom a glorious Form,
The once despised Nazarene.
Through waiting silence, voiceless shade,
A still, small Voice so clearly floats,
A listening lifetime were o’erpaid
By one sweet echo of such notes.
“Fear not, beloved! thou art Mine,
For I have given My life for thee;
By name I call thee, rise and shine,
Be praise and glory unto Me.
“In Me all spotless and complete,
And in My comeliness most fair
Art thou; to Me thy voice is sweet,
Prevailing in thy feeblest prayer.
“Thy life is hid in God with Me,
I stoop to dwell within thy breast;
My joy forever thou shalt be,
And in My love for thee I rest.
“O Prince’s daughter, whom I see
In bridal garments, pure as light,
Betrothed forever unto Me,
On thee My own new name I write.”
There is a hush in earth and sky,
The ear is free to list aright
There is a hush in earth and sky,
The ear is free to list aright
In darkness, veiling from the eye
The many-colored spells of light.
Not heralded by fire and storm,
In shadowy outline dimly seen,
Comes through the gloom a glorious Form,
The once despised Nazarene.
Through waiting silence, voiceless shade,
A still, small Voice so clearly floats,
A listening lifetime were o’erpaid
By one sweet echo of such notes.
“Fear not, beloved! thou art Mine,
For I have given My life for thee;
By name I call thee, rise and shine,
Be praise and glory unto Me.
“In Me all spotless and complete,
And in My comeliness most fair
Art thou; to Me thy voice is sweet,
Prevailing in thy feeblest prayer.
“Thy life is hid in God with Me,
I stoop to dwell within thy breast;
My joy forever thou shalt be,
And in My love for thee I rest.
“O Prince’s daughter, whom I see
In bridal garments, pure as light,
Betrothed forever unto Me,
On thee My own new name I write.”
Lo! ‘neath the stars’ uncertain ray,
In flowing mantle glistening fair,
One, lowly bending, turns away
From that sweet voice in cold despair.
Is it Humility, who sees
Herself unworthy of such grace,
Who dares not hope her Lord to please,
Who dares not look upon His face?
Nay, where that mantle fleeting gleams,
‘T is Unbelief who turns aside,
Who rather rests in self-spun dreams,
Than trust the love of Him who died.
Faith casts away the fair disguise,
She will not doubt her Master’s voice,
And droop when He hath bid her rise,
Or mourn when He hath said, “Rejoice!”
Her stained and soiled robes she leaves,
And Christ’s own shining raiment takes;
What His love gives, her love receives,
And meek and trustful answer makes:
“Behold the handmaid of the Lord!
Thou callest, and I come to Thee:
According to Thy faithful word,
O Master, be it unto me!
“Thy Love I cannot comprehend,
I only know Thy word is true,
And that Thou lovest to the end
Each whom to Thee the Father drew.
“Oh! take the heart I could not give
Without Thy strength-bestowing call;
In Thee, and for Thee, let me live,
For I am nothing, Thou art all.”
Frances Havergal