Classic Poem

Was ever infant's joy, embraced, caress'd,
So pure, so holy, so in blessing bless'd,
As Mine, when hanging on My Mother's breast?
Was ever joy like Mine?

Ah, childhood has its dreams of sweet delight,
Smiles all its own, and fountains crystal bright;
But in My Father's pleasure day and night
Was ever joy like Mine?

The men of grace wring comfort from the curse
Of labour, knowing " idleness were worse; "
But none save Me its sentence could reverse:
Was ever joy like Mine?

By Jordan's ford I knelt, and lo above
A pathway cloven to the throne of love:
O voice of rapture! O most Holy Dove!
Was ever joy like Mine?

Prayer fills the empty craving heart with praise;
Prayer opens heaven's gate to the martyr's gaze;
But Me the Father hears and hears always:
Was ever joy like Mine?

Blest souls who make the word their meditation:
But who can fathom all My consolation
When drinking from the well-springs of salvation?
Was ever joy like Mine?

How beautiful upon the mountains are
Their feet who tidings of God's peace declare!
I bought with blood the amnesty I bear:
Was ever joy like Mine?

The wayward lamb is torn by many a wound,
Who tracks it o'er the rocky thorny ground?
Mankind were lost, I sought them and I found:
Was ever joy like Mine?

The tempest sank before Me into calm;
The broken heart was heal'd with Gilead's balm;
The mourner's wailing pass'd into a psalm:
Was ever joy like Mine?

The weary and the heavy-laden throng'd
Around Me, and the wretched and the wrong'd;
Earth claim'd the gay; to Me the sad belong'd:
Was ever joy like Mine?

Eyes was I to the blind, feet to the lame:
Hope blossom'd from despair where'er I came;
Love wept, and weeping conquer'd sin and shame:
Was ever joy like Mine?

The dying robber lifts to Me his eyes,
And " Lord, remember me " in anguish cries,
And I, that day, I promised Paradise:
Was ever joy like Mine?

Is sacrifice love's measure? I alone
Forsook My Father's glory and My own,
Sharp thorns My diadem, the cross My throne:
Was ever joy like Mine?

O ransom'd saints within your home of light,
O angels stooping from your glory's height,
Bear witness, for ye read the mystery right,
Never was joy like Mine.