Unto Myself my child I would bring thee!
Who like Myself thy sure solace can be?
Who can reach down, down so deeply within thee?
Give to thy heart such a full sympathy?
Mournest thou sore that thy loved ones have failed thee?
Failed, sadly failed thy true comfort to be?
"Why did they fail" dost thou ask? Let me whisper--
"That thou shoulds't find thy heart's comfort in ME."
Unto Myself! Ah, not unto others,
Dearest, or sweetest, or fairest, or best;
Only in Me lieth unchanging solace;
Only in Me is thy promise of rest!
Child of My love, to Myself I would bring thee!
Not to some PLACE of most heavenly bliss:
Places, like people, may all disappoint thee,
Till thou hast learned to drink higher than this.
Unto Myself, my dear child, I would bring thee!
None like Myself thy full portion can be!
While, in my heart, there is hunger and longing
That I might find choicest treasure in thee.
Unto Myself! To MYSELF---not my service!
Thou to most sweetly and certainly prove
That I can make thee My channel of blessing,
Use thee to shed forth the wealth of my love.
Author J Danson Smith