I come to thee, O Master! on thy breast
I lay my weary head; I lave thy feet
With tears and kisses, travail of my quest;
I bring my aching heart and sore defeat,
And seek thy holy joy and perfect rest.
Place thou thy hand upon my burning brow;
Soothe thou my soul, and bid my sins depart;
I ask thy sweet salvation even now;
Thy rest I seek to ease my throbbing heart;
Thou art the Truth, to thee I cling and bow.
Thou changest not amid Earth’s changing scenes;
All worldly joys, strong passions that decay,
The sordid thought, the action that demeans,
These are not thee, and they will pass away:
On thy abiding strength my spirit leans.
Lead thou my feet unto thy Holy Place;
I take thy chastening; thy great love I sec;
Thy rod I kiss, and in my deep disgrace,
With longing, humble heart I cling to thee,
Knowing thou wilt not turn away thy face.
More Articles by This Author James Allen
James Allen was a little-known philosophical writer and poet. He is best recognized for his book, As a Man Thinketh. Allen wrote about complex subjects such as faith, destiny, love, patience, and religion but had the unique ability of explaining these subjects clearly and in a way that is easy to understand. He often wrote about cause and effect, sowing and reaping, as well as overcoming sadness, sorrow, and grief. For more information on the life of James Allen, click here.