Coming to the King

By

Frances Ridley Havergal

Coming to the King.

I came from very far to see
    The King of Salem, for I had been told
Of glory and of wisdom manyfold,
  And condescension infinite and free. 
Now could I rest, when I had heard his fame,
  In that dark lonely land of death, from whence I came?

I came (but not like Sheba’s queen), alone! 
      No stately train, no costly gifts to bring;
No friend at court, save One the King! 
    I had requests to spread before His throne,
And I had questions none could solve for me,
      Of import deep, and full of mystery.

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I came and communed with that mighty King
      And told Him all my heart, I cannot say
In mortal ear what communings were they
  But wouldst thou know,
    So too, and meekly bring
All that is in thine heart and thou shalt hear
  His voice of love and power
          His answers sweet and clear

O happy end of every weary guest! 
    He told me all I needed graciously:—­
  Enough for guidance, and for victory
      O’er doubts and fears enough for quiet rest,
    And when some veiled response
       I could not read
          It was not hid from Him, this was enough indeed

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His wisdom and His glories passed before
  My wondering eyes in gradual revelation
The house that He had built its strong foundation
  Its living stones and, brightening more and more
For glimpses of that palace far away,
    Where all his loyal ones
        Shall dwell with Him for aye.

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True the report that reached my far-off land
     Of all His wisdom and transcendent fame,
  Yet I believed not until I came
Bowed to the dust till raised by royal hand
    The half was never told by mortal word,
  My King exceeded all the fame that I had heard

    Oh happy are His servants! happy they
Who stand continually before His face,
      Ready to do His will of wisest grace! 
  My King! is mine such blessedness to-day? 
      For I too hear Thy wisdom line by line,
  Thy ever brightening words in holy radiance shine

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          Oh, blessed be the Lord they God who sat
    Our King upon His throne
        Divine delight
  In the Beloved crowning Thee with might
    Honour and majesty supreme and yet
  The strange and Godlike secret opening thus—­
The Kingship of His Christ ordained through love to us!

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  What shall I render to my glorious King? 
I have but that which I receive from Thee
And what I give, Thou givest back to me,
    Transmuted by Thy touch, each worthless thing
  Changed to the preciousness of gem or gold,
      And by thy blessing multiplied a thousand fold