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THE BRIDEGROOM’S DOVE
“My Dove!” The Bridegroom speaks to whom?
Whom think’st thou, meaneth He?
Say, O my soul! canst thou presume
He thus addresseth thee?
Yes, ’tis the Bridegroom’s voice of love,
Calling thee, O my soul! His dove!
The Dove is gentle, mild and meek:
Deserve I, then, the name?
I look within in vain to seek
Aught which can give a claim:
Yet, made so by redeeming love,
My soul, thou art the Bridegroom’s Dove!
Methinks, my soul, that thou may’st see,
In this endearing word,
Reasons why Jesus likens thee
To this defenceless bird;
Reasons which show the Bridegroom’s love
To His poor helpless, timid Dove!
The Dove hath neither claw nor sting,
Nor weapon for the fight;
She owes her safety to her wing,
Her victory to flight.
A shelter hath the Bridegroom’s love
Provided for His helpless Dove!
As the poor Dove, before the Hawk,
Quick to her refuge flies,
So need I, in my daily walk,
The wings which faith supplies
To bear me where the Bridegroom’s love
Places beyond all harm His Dove!
My soul, of native power bereft,
To Calvary repairs:
Immanuel is the rocky cleft
The secret of the stairs!
Since placed there by the Bridegroom’s love,
What evil can befall His Dove?
My soul, now hid within a rock,
(The “Rock of Ages” called),
Amid the universal shock
Is fearless, unappalled.
A cleft therein, prepared by love,
In safety hides the Bridegroom’s Dove!
O happy Dove! thus weak, thus safe;
Do I resemble her?
Then to my soul, O Lord! vouchsafe
A dove-like character.
Pure, harmless, gentle, full of love,
Make me in spirit, Lord, a Dove!
— April 15, 1906 —