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LIX

THE BAG

Away despair! my gracious LORD doth hear;

Though winds and waves assault my keel,

He doth preserve it; He doth steer,

Ev'n when the boat seems most to reel.

Storms are the triumph of His art;

Well may He close His eyes, but not His heart.

Hast thou not heard that my LORD JESUS died?

Then let me tell thee a strange story:

The GOD of power, as He did ride

In His majestic robes of glory,

Resolved to 'light, and so one day

He did descend, undressing all the way.

The stars His tire of light and rings obtain'd,

The cloud His bow, the fire His spear,

The sky His azure mantle gain'd;

And when they ask'd what He would wear,

He smiled, and said as He did go,

He had new clothes a-making here below.

45

When He was come, as travellers are wont,

He did repair unto an inn.

Both then, and after, many a brunt

He did endure to cancel sin;

And having given the rest before,

Here He gave up His life to pay our score.

But as He was returning, there came one

That ran upon Him with a spear.

He, who came hither all alone,

Bringing nor man, nor arms, nor fear,

Received the blow upon His side,

And straight He turn'd, and to His brethren cried,

'If ye have anything to send or write--

I have no bag, but here is room--

Unto My Father's hands and sight,

Believe Me, it shall safely come.

That I shall mind what you impart,

Look, you may put it very near my heart.

'Or if hereafter any of My friends

Will use Me in this kind, the door

Shall still be open; what he sends

I will present, and somewhat more,

Not to his hurt: sighs will convey

Anything to Me.' Hark, Despair, away!

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