A DESERTED HOUSE | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 17, 1872

A DESERTED HOUSE.

I have no guest-chamber to offer, Lord, No furnished upper room to bid thee to; The dwelling that I have might be abhorred, If other eyes its wretchedness should view.

I would not scorn the building—it is thine. Thou mad'st it for thyself, and mad'st it fair; But ravenous beasts, through carelessness of mine, Have seized and used it for their unclean lair.

The walls that glorious pictures should adorn, Are well-nigh hid with worthless imagery; The snowy, silken curtains droop forlorn— Alas! that soiled and tattered they should be!

And overlaid with rubbish and with dust Is the white beauty of its marble floor; Yea, it might fill a stranger with disgust, For miry feet have trod it o'er and o'er.

The windows that thou mad'st like diamonds pure, To admit unchanged the pure and spotless light, Alas! are dim, and clouded, and obscure— 'Tis hard sometimes to know the day from night.

I have no guest-chamber to offer, Lord, No furnished upper room to bid thee to; Unless thou wilt thyself the power afford To sweep its floor, and deck its walls anew.

Earth's meanest hovel would with glory shine If thou wert there—would be with splendor gilt; Filled with thy presence, it would grow divine; Then how much more should this which thou hast built. —Sel.