Olives that have known no pressure No oil can bestow;
If the grapes escape the winepress, Cheering wine can never flow;
Spikenard only through the crushing, Fragrance can diffuse.
Shall I then, Lord, shrink from suff’ring Which Thy love for me would choose?
Each blow I suffer Is true gain to me. In the place of what Thou takest Thou dost give Thyself to me.
Do my heart-strings need Thy stretching, Songs divine to prove?
Do I need for sweetest music Cruel treatment of Thy love?
Lord, I fear no deprivation If it draws to Thee;
I would yield in full surrender All Thy heart of love to see.
I’m ashamed, my Lord, for seeking Self to guard alway;
Though Thy love has done its stripping, Yet I’ve been compelled this way.
Lord, according to Thy pleasure Fully work on me;
Heeding not my human feelings, Only do what pleases Thee.
If Thy mind and mine should differ, Still pursue Thy way;
If Thy pleasure means my sorrow, Still my heart shall answer, “Yea!”
‘Tis my deep desire to please Thee, Though I suffer loss;
E’en though Thy delight and glory Mean that I endure the cross.
Oh, I’ll praise Thee, e’en if weeping Mingle with my song.
Thine increasing sweetness calls forth Grateful praises all day long.
Thou hast made Thyself more precious Than all else to me:
Thou increase and I decrease, Lord- This is now my only plea.