Home of our hearts, lest we forget
What our redemption meant for Thee,
Let our most reverent thought be set
Upon Thy Calvary.
We, when we suffer, turn and toss
And seek for ease, and seek again;
But Thou, upon Thy bitter Cross,
Wast firmly fixed in pain.
And in our night, star-clusters shine,
Flowers comfort us, and joy of song;
Nor star, nor flower, nor song was Thine,
But darkness three hours long.
We, in our lesser mystery
Of lingering ill and winged death,
Would fain see clear; but could we see,
What need would be for faith?
O Lord beloved, Thy Calvary
Stills all our questions; come, O come,
Where children wandering wearily
Have not yet found their Home.
by Amy Carmichael, Edges of His Ways
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