A MAN OF SORROWS by Mrs. E. A. B. Mitchell

Pacific Press Publishing Association

"A MAN OF SORROWS."

By Mrs. E. A. B. Mitchell

WHILE such a record shall remain, Whate'er our grief, whate'er our pain, How can we murmur or complain!

"A man of sorrows," who may know What bitter depths of human woe Our Saviour suffered here below!

What days of toil, what nights of prayer! In pitying love He came to share Our every burden, our every care.

Think of the heavy cross He bore, The piercing crown of thorns He wore, Think of the nails, the spear, the gore!

And with such memories as these, Oh, who could ask a life of ease, Or live one hour but self to please?

Since Jesus suffered, pain is sweet, It brings me lower at his feet; In closer sympathy we meet.

Ah, grief and anguish, what are ye, But fragrance floating back to me, From thy dear bowers, Gethsemane!

Low at the cross my heart I bring, And there a song of triumph sing, Yet glory but in suffering. --Mrs. E. A. B. Mitchell.