Yield yourselves unto the Lord.
2 Chronicles 30:8
Words: Horatius Bonar, Hymns of Faith and Hope (London: James Nisbet, 1857), pages 111–15, alt. The Rod.
Music: Wiltz, from The Sabbath Hymn and Tune Book, edited by Lowell Mason, Edwards A. Park & Austin Phelps (New York: Mason Brothers, 1859) number 264 (🔊 pdf nwc).
I weep, but do not yield,
I mourn, yet still rebel;
My inmost soul seems steeled,
Cold and immoveable.
The wound is sharp and deep;
My spirit bleeds within;
And yet I lie asleep,
And still I sin, I sin.
My bruisèd soul complains
Of stripes without, within;
I feel these piercing pains—
Yet still I sin, I sin.
O’er me the low cloud hung
Its weight of shade and fear;
Unmoved I passed along,
And still my sin is here.
Yon massive mountain-peak
The lightning rends at will;
The rock can melt or break—
I am unbroken still.
My sky was once noon-bright,
My day was calm the while,
I loved the pleasant light,
The sunshine’s happy smile.
I said, my God, oh, sure,
This love will kindle mine;
Let but this calm endure,
Then all my heart is Thine.
Alas, I knew it not!
The summer flung its gold
Of sunshine o’er my lot,
And yet my heart was cold.
Trust me with prosperous days,
I said, O spare the rod;
Thee and Thy love I’ll praise,
My gracious, patient God.
Must I be smitten, Lord?
Are gentler measures vain?
Must I be smitten, Lord?
Can nothing save but pain?
Thou trusted me a while;
Alas! I was deceived;
I reveled in the smile,
Yet to the dust I cleaved.
Then fierce the tempest broke,
I knew from whom it came;
I read in that sharp stroke
A Father’s hand and name.
And yet I did Thee wrong;
Dark thoughts of Thee came in—
A froward, selfish throng—
And I allowed the sin!
I did Thee wrong, my God,
I wronged Thy truth and love;
I fretted at the rod,
Against Thy power I strove.
I said, my God, at length,
This stony heart remove;
Deny all other strength,
But give me strength to love.
Come nearer, nearer still,
Let not Thy light depart;
Bend, break this stubborn will,
Dissolve this iron heart.
Less wayward let me be,
More pliable and mild,
In glad simplicity
More like a trustful child.
Less, less of self each day,
And more, my God, of Thee;
O keep me in the way,
However rough it be.
Less of the flesh each day,
Less of the world and sin;
More of Thy Son, I pray,
More of Thyself within.
Riper and riper now,
Each hour let me become,
Less fit for scenes below,
More fit for such a home.
More molded to Thy will,
Lord, let Thy servant be,
Higher and higher still,
Liker and liker Thee.
Leave naught that is unmeet;
Of all that is mine own;
Strip me, and so complete
My training for the throne.