STILL DYING
What’s this, this grief, which fills my soul,
why should I feel so vile and low,
where now that Joy which outward spilt,
where now His Peace which flowed and filled?
Is something lost have I gone wrong,
was I mistaken all along,
is this but season barren pruned,
is that harsh Light, His Word and Truth?
What heights, what glory, dreams so vain,
have I accomplished, gotten, gained,
have I in battle won new ground,
or in His Truth but wandered round?
Where hid these things now shown within,
where hid these things that God calls sin,
though deep concealed to my new shame,
is not their rot and stench now plain?
Though doctrines false believed betrayed,
was I not free and not some slave,
did I not choose though hoping best,
can I rejoice in length of test?
Is this The Way which I must strive,
is this The Way which I must die,
is this The Way our Lord refines,
that dross should go and true gold shine?
To thus confess these things hard felt,
assist that blackened dross to melt,
to rise to top and be skimmed off,
that I relieved to knees might drop…
2007 Bro. James