p. 1 | AT JESUS' FEET

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Apr 17, 1884

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 16.

AT JESUS' FEET.

Oh, Son of man! Oh, Son of God! Whose precious feet the wine-press trod, I faint beneath the tempter's power, Be with me in the midnight hour! I know not how thy love can see Aught lovable or good in me. But thou art Christ, the crucified, And I believe "the Love that died!"

I know not by what charm divine Thou comfortest this heart of mine, But well I know that on thy breast My wearied spirit findeth rest. And so, toilworn, heartsick, and sore, I come to thee, when toil is o'er, And from thy Christ-love, pure and deep, Thou "givest thy beloved sleep."

Oh, Son of man! Oh, Son of God! Whose sacred feet life's ways have trod, Let all my life an offering be Of loving service wrought for thee! And if I sleep in some lone grave, This prayer of thee in faith I crave,— When angels sing thy glorious sway, And earth abashed doth melt away, Let the first whisper of thy name Make my dry ashes glow again! —Sel.