I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne,
And begged Him for one priceless gift which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart I cried,
"But Lord this is a thorn and it has pierced my heart;
This is a strange and hurtful gift which Thou has given me."
He said, "My child, I gift good gifts and gave my best to thee."
I took it home and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed, I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.
Elisabeth Elliott
2 comments:
That last line always gives me chills when I read it! Great insight. May we see His face more clearly!
Oh my heavens. How absolutely precious. I love this and don't think I have ever read it.
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