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Beneath the cross of Jesus
I fain would take my stand,-
the shadow of a mighty rock
within a weary land;
a home within a wilderness,
a rest upon the way,
from the burning of the noontide heat
and the burden of the day.
O safe and happy shelter!
O refuge tried and sweet!
O trysting-place where heaven's love
and heaven's justice meet!
As to the holy patriarch
that wondrous dream was given,
so seems my Savior's cross to me
a ladder up to heaven.
There lies beneath its shadow,
but on the farther side,
the darkness of an awful grave
that gapes both deep and wide;
and there between us stands the cross,
two arms outstretched to save,
like a watchman set to guard the way
from that eternal grave.
Upon that cross of Jesus,
mine eye at times can see
the very dying form of One,
who suffered there for me:
and from my smitten heart, with tears,
two wonders I confess,-
the wonder of his glorious love,
and my own worthlessness.
I take, O cross, thy shadow
for my abiding-place;
I ask no other sunshine than
the sunshine of his face,
content to let the world go by,
to know no gain nor loss,-
my sinful self my only shame,
my glory all the cross.
Elizabeth Cecilia Clephane (1830-1869)