Rom. viii. 35.
To
Thee, Lord, my heart unfoldeth,
As
the rose to the golden
sun--
To
Thee, Lord, mine arms are clinging,
The
eternal joy
begun.
For
ever, through endless ages,
Thy
cross and Thy sorrow shall
be
The
glory, the song, and the sweetness
That
make heaven heaven to
me.
Let
one in his innocence glory,
Another
in works he has
done--
Thy
Blood is my claim and my title,
Beside
it, O Lord, I have
none.
The
Scorned, the Despised, the Rejected,
Thou
hast won Thee this heart of
mine;
In
Thy robes of eternal glory
Thou
welcomest me to
Thine.
H. Suso.