Classic Poem

A sinner, wrestling in his guilt,
" Forgive, Thou canst, Lord, if Thou wilt,
Whose life-blood for my soul was spilt: "
Behold, he prays.

A child, compell'd by love to press
Still nearer to Thy holiness,
Who cries, " Bless me, my Father, bless: "
Behold, he prays.

A saint, whose heart's compassions yearn
To see the prodigals return
And lost ones all Thy mercy learn:
Behold, he prays.

A herald of the love of God,
Whose footsteps, dew'd with tears and blood,
Through the wide world unwearied trod:
Behold, he prays.

A sufferer beneath the cross,
Whose gold is daily fined from dross,
For Jesus counting all things loss:
Behold, he prays.

A wayfarer whose course is run,
The Jordan flush'd at set of sun,
And blessed Canaan almost won:
Behold, he prays.

Oh, voice of prayer! Oh, voice of song
Borne through the gates of heaven along!
Amid the everlasting throng,
Behold, he prays.