p. 3 | The Indwelling Christ

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jun 1, 1911

The Indwelling Christ

In unto me, O Christ, divine One, come! I'll open wide the door. Make me thy temple home. Cleanse thou each hidden chamber of my soul; Cure secret sickness, make me perfect, whole; Cast out, to stay cast out, all love of sin; Adorn with thine own hand the dwelling-place within; Let me thy presence feel, mine eyes thy glory see. My guest, abiding guest, O, wilt thou be? Spread thou the table; let me sup with thee—

Come unto me! Come unto me!

My heart I'll open wide. There's not a room So high or low but to it thou shalt come. From attic high to cellar dark and drear, Where oft I've sought for peace or fled in fear, Where e'en my dearest friend has ne'er been bid, Where all my secret motives have been hid,— All, all, I open wide; the house is thine Within to dwell, to feast, and evermore to shine. Let me belong to thee! and be thou mine; Be thou my only guest, my Deity.

Come unto me! O, come to me!

Henceforth I feast, but at no cost of mine; Henceforth I drink life-giving, heavenly wine; Henceforth with flowers is crowned my every cup; Henceforth with Jesus as my guest I sup; Henceforth my mind, my heart, my being whole, Is made a glorious palace for my soul; And at its table, most divinely spread, I feast, and feast again, on living bread. Nothing to hide—there is no future dread; Here, with my Friend, my Brother, Priest, and King. Joy fills my every sense. His praises now I sing, And day by day new beauties do I see; For he has come to me, Come even unto me. —From "The Shadow of the Cross."