Poems (Shipton)/The Golden Sceptre

by Anna Shipton

THE GOLDEN SCEPTRE.

"What wilt thou, Queen Esther? and what is thy request?"—Esther v. 3.
"This is the confidence that we have in Him, that, if we ask anything according to His will, He heareth us."—1 John v. 14.
"All things are yours."—1 Cor. iii. 21.

"All things are yours!" Yea, Lord, I know it;
 But oh, how cold my heart must be
To doubt the love that can bestow it,
 And tarry still afar from Thee!

I claim Thy promise while I plead it;
 Behold, I take Thee at Thy word;
Thou seest how much to-day I need it:
 Help for the helpless, gracious Lord!

Look on my sick, my dumb, my dying,
 Touch Thou my blind that they may see;
This broken heart, in anguish sighing:
 I bring them one and all to Thee.

My heart's best treasures, here I give them,
 To be within Thy temple stored;
And as life's landmarks there I leave them,
 "Because I asked (them) of the Lord."

When love would fail in fruitless yearning,
 Thy golden censer wafts my prayers;
I see the perfumed incense burning:
 All things are mine, all things are theirs.

I bring the care, sharp and oppressing;
 The way perplexed; the path untrod;
This feeble service for Thy blessing,
 Oh crown it, "Given thee of God!"

I ask for patience, faith, and meekness,
 And love divine that all endures:
Give me Thy strength to meet my weakness,
 Since Thou hast said, "All things are yours."

I bring the sin my soul distressing,
 That Thou mayst cleanse me pure and white;
The faint foreboding past expressing,
 But clear before Thy searching sight.

Oh, let me feel Thee ever nigh me,
 And seek Thy smile all gifts above!
No good thing will Thy grace deny me,
 The object of Thy changeless love.

Thus shall I tread the roaring billow,
 Looking to Him who hears it roar;
Thy hand my guide, Thy breast my pillow,
 Lord, let me trust, and doubt no more!

Safe in the bark Thou badst me enter,
 I'll triumph in Thy power divine;
And on Thy word my all I venture,
 For Thou hast said, "All things are mine."