Discipline

Throw away Thy rod,

Throw away Thy wrath;

O my God,

Take the gentle path!

For my heart's desire

Unto Thine is bent:

I aspire

To a full consent.

Not a word or look

I affect to own,

But by book,

And Thy Book alone.

Though I fail, I weep;

Though I halt in pace,

Yet I creep

To the throne of grace.

Then let wrath remove;

Love will do the deed;

For with love

Stony hearts will bleed.

Love is swift of foot;

Love's a man of war,

And can shoot,

And can hit from far.

Who can 'scape his bow?

That which wrought on Thee,

Brought Thee low,

Needs must work on me.