That Mystic Word Of Thine O Sovereign Lord

That mystic word of Thine, O sovereign Lord, Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me; Weary of striving, and with longing faint, I breathe it back again in prayer to Thee.

Abide in me, I pray, and I in Thee; From this good hour, O leave me never more. Then shall the discord cease, the wound be healed, The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o’er.

As some rare perfume in a vase of clay Pervades with a fragrance not its own. So, when Thou dwellest in a mortal soul, All heaven’s own sweetness seems around it thrown.

Abide in me; o’ershadow by Thy love Each half-formed purpose, and dark thought of sin; Quench ere it rise, each selfish, low desire, And keep my soul as Thine, calm and divine.

Abide in me; there have been moments blest When I have heard Thy voice and felt Thy power; Then evil lost its grasp, and passion, hushed, Owned the divine enchantment of the hour.

These but were seasons, beautiful are rare; Abide in me, and they shall ever be; Fulfil at once Thy precept and my prayer— Come and abide in me, and I in Thee.