Edward Henry Bickersteth (1825–1906)

“MY work is done, I lay me down to die,

Weary and travel-worn I long for rest,

Speak but the word, dear Master, and I fly,

A dove let loose, to nestle in Thy breast.”

“Not yet, My child, a little longer wait,

I need thy prayerful watch at glory’s gate!”

“But, Lord, I have no strength to watch and pray;

My spirit is benumb’d, and dim my sight;

And I shall grieve Thy watchful love, as they

Who in the garden slept that Paschal night.”

“My child, I need thy weakness hour by hour

To prove in Me, thy strengthlessness is power.”

“Not for myself alone I urge the suit;

But loved ones lose for me life’s priceless bloom,

And tender, patient, uncomplaining, mute,

Wear out their joyance in my darken’d room.”

“Enough, My child, I need their love to thee:

Around thy couch they minister to Me.”

“It is enough, dear Master; yea, Amen,

I will not breathe one murmur of reply,

Only fulfil Thy work in me, and then

Call me and bid me answer,—‘Here am I.’”

“My child, the sign I waited for is given,

Thy work is done, I need thee now in heaven.