Living Scripture

I fled Him, down the night and down the days;

I fled Him, down the arches of the years;

I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways

Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears

I hid from Him….                                                               

But with unhurrying chase,

And unperturbèd pace,

Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,

            They beat –  and a Voice beat

            More instant than the Feet—                     

‘All things betray thee, who betrayest Me.’

            Alack, thou knowest not

How little worthy of any love thou art!

Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,

            Save Me, save only Me?

All which I took from thee I did but take,

            Not for thy harms,

But just that thou might’st seek it in My arms.

            All which thy child’s mistake

Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:

            Rise, clasp My hand, and come.’

                (from The Hound of Heaven by Francis Thompson)