Poems (Kimball)/My Petition
MY PETITION.
OFT when I pray that God will bless My friends most dear, Will make their trials something less, Or crown their lives with happiness, From year to year;
Soon as my fond petitions rise, The thought will come That the dear Lord alone is wise, And He ordaineth sacrifice As life's true sum.
Whichever way our path may lead There looms the Cross, No less to beckon than to plead; The while it covers human need, Demanding loss.
"If thou wilt enter life, resign Thy life," it saith; "A soldier of the King Divine, The martyr's spirit should be thine, If not his death.
"What thou possessest, count it loss; It will not last!The wealth of this world yield as dross Hold blessings humbly; but the cross— The cross hold fast!"
Hot less of trial then, not more Of happiness I crave, as I have craved before, For those I pray for o'er and o'er, And fain would bless.
But now my fond petitions rise: From things of time, Lord Jesus, turn away their eyes, That they may see in sacrifice A joy sublime.
Not sacrifice of strength or ease Or wealth alone; But what so far exceedeth these—The self so eager self to please, And seek its own.
For Thy sweet sake in them fulfil This sacrifice, And make them strong to serve Thee still, Yea, Lord, through good report and ill, Whate'er the price.
Give what Thou wilt, or take away; Be this their crown, Their earthly life from day to day In will, if not in deed, to lay Victorious down.