Jesus, I fain would sing a sweeter song
Than my glad heart has ever sung before;
For Thou, who has been bountiful to me,
Has filled my cup till it is running o'er.
Why hast Thou thus revealed Thyself to me?
Why has Thy secret unto me made known?
Why singled me from many loving hearts,
Whispering these mysteries to me alone?
Thou art too good, too great, too wise, too kind;
And even while to see Thee I entreat,
My weakness puts Thee from me, and I cry
This is too great a joy, a bliss too sweet.
Oh stay Thine hand! I cannot, cannot bear
This weight of glory; cannot live, and see
The face that Thou in tender grace hast turned
On me, a sinful creature, even me.
Yes, I can bear Thy strokes, but not Thy love;
I can endure Thy frowns, but not Thy smile;
Frowns I deserve, and stripes I sorely need,
And Thine own choice has given them erewhile.
And yet amid my tears, my heart rings out
A richer song than songs it sang before;
For Thou who hast been bountiful to me,
Has given a cup today that runneth o'er!
~Elizabeth Payson Prentiss
Author of "Stepping Heavenward"