love poems for her

I hear them tell of a wondrous country,
A land of pure delight
Where summer suns are forever shining,
And never there falleth night;
I hear that within that dominion fair,
A city immortal stands,
A city whose beauty is yet untold,
A city not built with hands.
I hear them tell of a risen Saviour,
A mighty King of kings,
The builder of that immortal city, —
The world with his glory rings;
They tell me that he has prepared for all
A place in that land so fair,
And sends down a full invitation, too,

Saviour, be thou by my side,
As my comfort, friend, and guide;
By thy tender words of love,
Lead me to my home above.
I am weak, and wanting pow'r,
Often in a trying hour;
Then thy words of love and cheer,
Cast aside all doubt and fear
Give me strength and help divine,
Let thy precious love be mine;
Ever on thy gentle breast,
Let my troubled spirit rest.

Jesus, be thou ever near me,
For thy voice doth ever cheer me,
Be my best and dearest friend,
Until life on earth shall end.

The only treaty framed in Christian love
 Without a single oath; and by that token
Recorded and approved in heaven above,
 And in a world of sin and strife unbroken!

Do you ask why I love Jesus?
'Tis because he first loved me;
He from sin and death redeems us,
He from bondage sets us free
Once I had no love for Jesus,
For my soul was sunk in sin,
Charmed with that alone which pleases,
Gratifies the lusts within.
But I gave myself to Jesus
For the love he showed to me;
Now I love my blessed Jesus,
Bleeding Lamb of Calvary.
Sinner, love this loving Jesus,
Who in mercy died for thee;
He the captive soul releases,
Bids the prisoner go free.

Is it for me, dear Saviour,
Thy glory and thy rest?
For me, so weak and sinful?
Oh, shall I be so blest?
Is it for me, thy welcome,
Thy gracious “enter in?”
For me thy “come, ye blessed?”
For me, so full of sin?
O Saviour, precious Saviour,
My heart is at thy feet!
I bless thee, and I love thee,
And thee I long to meet.
I'll be with thee forever,
And never grieve thee sore;
Dear Saviour, I must praise thee,
And love thee more and more.

O Saviour, my Redeemer!
What can I but adore?

Oh, tell me the story of Jesus,
The wonderful Saviour of men!
It is such a beautiful story,
Repeat it again and again
Oh, tell ... me of Jesus,
The Saviour of men, ...
That I, ... too, may love ... him
Forever, Amen.
Once more tell the story of Jesus,
Whose mercy is plenteous and free,
And read me the words that assure me,
He tenderly loves even me.
Yes, tell the sweet story of Jesus;
If he is so precious to you,
To me he will be no less dearer,
And I may believe on him too

The seraphs would sing to her
And from the River
Dip her cool grails of radiant Life.
The angels would bring to her,
Sadly a-quiver,
Laurels she never had won in earth-strife.

And oft they would fly with her
Over star-spaces —
Silent by worlds where mortals are pent.
Yea, even would sigh with her,
Sigh with wan faces,
When she sat weeping of strange discontent.

But one said, " Why weepest thou
Here in God's heaven —
Is it not fairer than soul can see?"
" Fair, yes! — but keepest thou

From day to day, from year to year,
New waves of change assail us here;
Each day, each year, prolongs the chain
Where pleasure alternates with pain.

New earth-born exhalations rise,
To hide the heavens from our eyes;
New clouds obscure the vision fair,
Which once was round us everywhere.

New precious obligations come,
New sanctities of love and home,
New tender hopes, new anxious fears,
And sweet experiences of tears.

Old tastes are lost, old thoughts grow strange,
Old longings gradually change,

This is to little Dorothy D.
Granddaughter mine so sweet is she.
Long ago a poet knew
A dear little girl called Dorothy Q.;
But I am convinced she could not be
Any sweeter than Dorothy D.

Dorothy Douglas, may you grow
Into the dearest girl I know:
May you be loyal, frank and true,
Just as your mother is; may you
Loving, joyous, and honest be,
Like your father, my Dorothy D.

Welcome into the great, strange world,
Now where the dogs of war have hurled
Bitter cries that have stunned our ears, —

CHRIST SPEAKS FROM A CRUCIFIX IN BRITTANY

M Y people, oh! my people, pass not by,
Or passing, turn again and look, for lo!
The shadow of my rough hewn cross and me
Hangs in the waning West, a great Plus Sign,
And bids you add us, add my cross and me,
To every joy and every pain of yours.
My arms outstretched, my weary head and feet
Nailed to the rugged cross are like the sign
The little children make to show that more,