LOVE'S FRAGRANCE by Frances E. Bolton

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Apr 11, 1906

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 32, No. 15.

LOVE'S FRAGRANCE.

By Frances E. Bolton

"We are unto God a sweet savor of Christ."

"Pity thyself," said Peter to his Lord. "Spare, save Thyself," said he who once denied, "Be it far from Thee," was the selfish word, "Thou needest not to be thus crucified." "Get thee behind Me," said the Master then, "Thou savorest not of God whose name is Love. Offense to Me, thou savorest of men, Not of the fragrance of the courts above."

"Pity Thyself, and spare Thyself," again We hear the words of Peter's yet untried. That savor of the selfishness of men, Denying now that self be crucified. But following Christ, we see Gethsemane, And feel its shadows creep upon our way, And just beyond the cross of Calvary, And shall we for the work of Peter stay?

The sword of temporal power, the blow of force, The self-strength sought the demons to defy, And boasting so to follow Christ's meek course, Failed in the crisis, and will still deny. O seeker for the fulness of the breath Of Heaven's Holy Ghost, reject the plea. Spare not thyself, but loving unto death, Go with Thy Master to thy Calvary.

Sink into nothingness. Die on thy cross, Deny thyself and not the power above, And lo, from out thy death and utter loss, Shall rise up, Phœnix-like, the life of Love. And lo, the savor of thy garments then, Will be of Christ, the Lily of the Vale, And thou shalt be as fragrance among men, Shedding the Christ-love in the mart and dale.

The Holy Ghost shall raise thee from the tomb, The resurrection power shall in thee move, And as a rose thy life shall breathe perfume, The very perfume of the life of love. Sweet to the Father as an altar flame, Thy prayer shall rise as incense to the skies, Savor of Christ, the breathing of His name, Nor self-stench mingle with love's sacrifice.

Thy garments then will smell of aloes sweet, Of frankincense and myrrh and priceless nard,— Love's offering poured out at thy Saviour's feet Will yet return (so ordered by thy Lord) Upon thy head, and fill the house with bloom (Tho some will murmur at the waste again), Thy God shall welcome up thy sweet perfume, And spread Love's sweetness through the hearts of men. FRANCES E. BOLTON.