Poems (Shipton)/The Living Saviour

by Anna Shipton

THE LIVING SAVIOUR.

"I know that ye seek Jesus which was crucified; He is not here for He is risen, as He said."—Matt. xxviii. 5. 6.
"Then were the disciples glad when they saw the Lord."—John xx. 20.

I wept beneath the Cross that bore
 The Lamb for sinners slain;
And oft I wandered, oft returned,
 To gaze on Him again.
My soul had scarce a gleam of hope,
 Though 'neath the Cross I stood;
Yet I could say that Jesus died,
 And life is in His blood.

But when the quickened pulse began
 In this dull heart to move,
I had no rest till I beheld
 The Object of my love:
I longed to know the spotless Man
 Who bore my sin for me,
Who burst the bonds of death and hell
 To set the prisoner free.

The cravings of my restless soul,
 Of Christ Himself were born.
Like Mary, at the empty grave,
 That resurrection morn,
So, in the shadowy twilight, I
 Still sought Him, far and wide,
Nor knew the One who led me on
 Was Christ the Crucified.

I thought the Lord, enthroned above,
 Would take no heed of me;
And death indeed were gain, if I
 My risen Lord could see.
And yet He guided every step,
 Else had I never known
His love that, for my waiting soul,
 Hath rolled away the stone.

I thought but of His bleeding brow,
 His wounded hands and feet;
I sought Him with the multitude,
 But Christ I did not meet.
Some said, "The Saviour dwelleth here,
 And only here is He;"
And others said, "Nay, come with us,
 Or Christ you cannot see."

"Come forth and serve, and be content,"
 Some busy laborer cried.
I sadly answered, "Nay, I seek
 The Lord I crucified!
How can I tend your vineyards?—how
 Scatter the seed around,
Until the Master of the field,
 The living Lord, be found?

"My vine would bear no fruit for Him,
 Though rich might be the leaves;
And though in weeping I might sow,
 I still should find no sheaves.
I sigh for God, the living God:
 For Him my soul doth wait;
None tell me where He dwells, and I
 Am sad and desolate."

Lo here, lo there, I sought Him far,
 The Bearer of my sin;
I missed the kingdom of His grace,
 And sought it not within.
Shrouded in daily circumstance,
 I little knew Him then,
Or that my Lord's delights were still
 Among the sons of men.

Sickness and sorrow came at length,
 And closed my chamber door;
My Lord! then wast Thou found of me,
 And my long search was o'er.
And since the day Thou bad'st me cast
 Each rising care on Thee,
Thou hast made in this wilderness
 A well of peace for me.

Not only had the dying Lamb
 Washed all my sins away,
But Jesus, Son of God and Man,
 Arose for me that day.
Dark clouds, all glory-lined, revealed
 The way my Saviour came;
And forth He bade His happy child
 The glorious news proclaim.

"The Lord is risen indeed," and now
 Our Kinsman He appears;
He walks beside us on the road,
 And shares our smiles and tears;
And still, in love omnipotent,
 Before our Father's face,
He pleads the open door of hope
 For every heir of grace.

Long time I mused upon my sins:
 Ah, well might I be sad!
But, like Thy dear disciples, Lord,
 I saw Thee, and was glad.
My hope Thou art—upon the Cross,
 My strength—upon the Throne,
Thy death my life, Thy pain my peace
 Thrice blessed Three in One!

What though the fig-tree blossom not,
 Nor vine its fruitage yield,
The promise of the olive fail,
 The harvest from the field,
The fair flock perish from the fold,
 And from the stalls the herd,
Shall I not trust in God my strength,
 And rest upon His Word?

He is my portion! He hath taught
 My murmuring lips to praise,
And He will guide my feeble feet
 In His most holy ways.
Lord! search my heart with jealous love,
 And reign Thou there alone;
For Thou art mine, and I am Thine,
 Eternally Thine own.