W. Nee

C.M.Ref.

OLIVES that have known no pressure

Never can oil bestow;

If the grapes escape the winepress,

Cheering wine can never flow;

Spikenard only through the crushing,

Its fragrance can diffuse.

Shall I then, shrink from the suff’ring

That Thy love would so induce?

Each blow I suffer

Is true gain to me.

In the place of what Thou takest

Thou dost give Thyself to me.

2

Do my heart-strings need Thy stretching,

Music divine to prove?

Must the sweetest music come from

The harsh treatment of Thy love?

Lord, I fear no deprivation

If I be drawn to Thee;

I would yield in full surrender

All Thy heart of love to see.

3

I’m ashamed, my Lord, for seeking

Myself to guard alway;

Though Thy love had done its stripping,

Yet I felt compelled Thy way.

Lord, according to Thy pleasure

Complete Thy work in me;

Heeding not my human feelings,

Only do what pleases Thee.

4

If Thy mind and mine should differ,

Pursue, O Lord, Thy way;

If Thy pleasure means my sorrow,

Still my heart shall answer, “Yea!”

’Tis my deep desire to please Thee,

Though I might suffer loss;

E’en though Thy delight and glory

Mean that I endure the cross.

5

Oh, I’ll praise Thee, e’en if weeping

Be mingled with my song.

Thine increasing sweetness calls forth

Grateful praises all day long.

Thou hast made Thyself more precious

Than everything to me:

Thou increase and I decrease, Lord—

This is now my only plea.