Compassed about with songs, my soul was still

Compassed about with songs, my soul was still —
But not for lack of light its bliss to see;
Thy heart, my Father, could the temple fill,
And its deep silence was a song to Thee.
My mind reposed in its captivity,
By the clear evidence of love subdued;
I was content to die, that I might be
Redeemed forever from my solitude.
All that was in me to Thy throne aspired
Longed for Thy heavenly glory to be meet, —
Devotion was the joy to be desired,
And the the thought of sacrifice was sweet.

But He who knew my frame was training me
For service needing strength that cannot wane,
And teaching me my frail mortality
By solemn reckonings of the weight of pain.
I in my weakness — how was I to reign,
When suffering was the only way to power?
And would my spirit in His strength remain,
When watching was a strife for one short hour?
Conid I with steadfast heart myself deny?
Could I with patient love the Cross endure?
Should I be every day content to die,
To keep my daily life in Him secure?

Then with fresh sweetness, from the saints in light,
One song of victory to my soul made known,
How the hid treasure of the Church's might
Was in the power of her Beloved alone.
And then Thy glory to my heart was shown,
Even as the glory of the blest above; —
I knew Thy steadfast spirit was my own,
By the pure joy of Thy reflected love.
And the mind communed with me that was his
Who said “When I am weak then am I strong” —
Until the voice of my infirmities
Made harmony with that triumphant song.

Hymns and Meditations, 1873