| | Shall I, the gnat which dances in Thy ray, |
| Dare to be reverent?—COVENTRY PATMORE |
STRANGELY, strangely, Lord, this morning | |
| Camest Thou beneath my roof, | |
| Shorn of all Thy royal adorning, | |
| Stripp’d of judgement and reproof, | |
| The King of kings yet gladly scorning, | 5 |
| Every plea but love’s behoof. | |
| ‘Can this be God?’ I said, ‘who enters, | |
| This be God who climbs my stair? | |
| God sits high in heavenly centres, | |
| And though He hath us in His care, | 10 |
| ’Tis as His adopted children, | |
| Slaves redeemed from Satan’s snare. | |
| God is mightier than the mountains, | |
| Far more majesty would wear, | |
| This One comes like summer fountains, | 15 |
| Hath no snow upon His hair. | |
| With eagle pinions God will cover | |
| Those who seek for refuge there, | |
| But these are dove-like wings that hover, | |
| God was never half so fair.’ | 20 |
| Then with voice like falling water | |
| Viewless angels sang to me, | |
| Fear not thou, O virgin daughter, | |
| Thy King desires thy poverty. | |
| |
| At that ‘Ave Maria’ | 25 |
| I arose and I obeyed; | |
| O my King Cophetua, | |
| I, Thy blessed beggar-maid, | |
| Who once lay among the potsherds | |
| Stand in silver plumes arrayed; | 30 |
| I, who lonely in the vineyards | |
| Morn and noon and evening strayed. | |
| Now am wrapt in Thine embraces, | |
| ’Neath Thy banner ‘Love’ am laid, | |
| Made partaker of Thy graces, | 35 |
| I, the outcast beggar-maid. | |
| |
| No excuse and no invention | |
| Makes me less unworthy Thee, | |
| No prostration, no pretension | |
| Of unique humility, | 40 |
| But Thy glorious condescension | |
| Blazes through my misery, | |
| And Thy love finds full extension | |
| In the nothingness of me. | |
| Dark my soul, yet Thou hast sought her, | 45 |
| My night allows Thy day to shine, | |
| Thou the grape art, I the water— | |
| Both together make the wine. | |
| I the clay and Thou the craftsman, | |
| I the boat and Thou the strand, | 50 |
| I the pencil, Thou the draughtsman, | |
| I the harp and Thou the hand. | |
| |
| But the world with envy raging | |
| Fain would snatch me, Lord, from Thee, | |
| And Death and Hell their war are waging, | 55 |
| Therefore go not far from me. | |
| By the mystery of this housel, | |
| By this momentary truth, | |
| By the love of this espousal, | |
| By this kindness of my youth, | 60 |
| By Thy promise of remembrance, | |
| By that sweet perversity | |
| That makes my dark uncomely semblance | |
| Seem desirable to Thee— | |
| Leave me not lest faith should falter, | 65 |
| O! secure my fealty, | |
| I the victim on Thine altar, | |
| Thou the fire consuming me. | |
