Yes, I was living to myself was dead:

Self with its hopes and dreams was all I had;

But soon the Lord fulfilled my prayer to know

The power of His cross ’twas death below.

I asked contrition He sent me pain;

For purity but anguish came again;

I asked I might be meek He broke my heart;

I asked I knew not what the better part.

I asked to know what death was to the world,

And quickly all my living hopes were spoiled;

I asked to be like Him His image bear

He placed me in a furnace, sitting there

Like one refining silver, till He see

The reflex of His image bright in me.

I asked that I the daily cross might bear,

It lacerated me the wounds I wear;

I blindly prayed, not knowing how, nor what,

He took me at my word it mattered not.

Then I began to shrink from following near,

And well-nigh prayed Him to depart through fear.

To suffer was not pleasing to the flesh,

I feared to pray lest suffering come afresh;

But I had gone too far on I must go

The virtues of His cross had pierced me through.

In me His promise now fulfilled must be

Suffer with me, and you will reign with me!

Ah, I had only heard of love but now

I feel it, Oh! I feel its living glow.

He fastened on me such a look of love,

Withering to self tender, all words above;

Follow I must, whatever may betide;

I love the cross I shelter in His side!

J. PRESTON EBY