I did not come to Him with needs all met.
With deeds unselfed, or happy, childlike trust.
I came so filled with grief and fear I knew
No part of His dear love. Cold doubt had clogged
My stumbling steps; for how could One so right
Be near enough to meet me where I was,
So steeped in false belief?
I made a forward move the way I thought
I should. I prayed I might improve, but to
No good. And then I grasped the perfect man
That God holds fast in His beloved care!
I really was this perfect man, not what
I seemed to be, disheartened, unredeemed;
I was a child of God.
Forever free, no evil could I know;
His child had never suffered so. But then,
Whence came that evil cloud, that miry clay,
That dreary shroud? The still, small voice of Love
So dear spoke gently, dried my every tear,
Till I could see so clear the cloud dispersed.
It did not reappear.
