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Hearken! My Soul!

 

Hearken! My soul! What canst thou bring
To gain the approval of thy royal King?
I shall labor, and toil, night and day,
Surely I’ll find His favor some way.

I try in great works, His favor to obtain
Yet all my attempts are not to my gain.
I struggle, I wrestle, at last I sigh,
With all hope lost, to Thee I cry.

Lord, Thou hast seen my feeble tries,
My falterings, my failures, my despairing cries.
I see my small strength will never be
Enough to make me all glorious for Thee.

“O precious daughter, knowest thou not,
How wondrous things my power hath wrought?
Wouldst thou not fully rest in Me?
For ‘tis my joy to work in thee.”

Yea, I would yield myself to Thee
For my endeavors have wearied me
And, O thou labourings, all in vain!
Have only caused my soul great strain.

“Rest, O child, simply rest in my care
And I shall make of thee beauty so rare.
Into my likeness, I’ll shape, form and build,
If thou would rest in me and be still.”

At last! A princess to behold!
Refined and precious, like unto gold
Yet all earth’s riches could not repay
The priceless treasure that God hath made.

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