Sorrow in Heaven
I did not know my Savior sorrowed yet.
I thought His tears were spent long years ago
When, by the sepulcher with human woe;
or when in agony of grief He mourned
Because His people had despised their King;
Or when, on Calv'ry hill, in blood and shame,
He hung, an outcast from the universe-
Made sin for us, the One who knew no sin-
And hearing chastisement for every man,
The vengeance of eternal Justice bore
Against the vile and hideous monster, Sin.
So costly was the remedy for sin,
All heaven was emptied in one priceless Gift.
God gave Himself in Christ, to save mankind,
And by the symbol of the cross revealed
The sorrow that had broken His great heart.
For, as in agony a mother sees
The silent chill of death embrace her child,
So Love Eternal mournes a dying world,
And grieves the loss of every human soul.
And as a father calls a wayward son
And follows him through sorrow and through shame,
So Pity Infinite doth follow us,
Imploring us to seek our Father's home.
I did not know that there was grief in heaven.
I thought that gladness filled each angel heart,
That rapture wakened every song they sang,
And every heart responded to a joy
Unknown to mortals. Ah! I did not know
The sorrow that they felt, the yearning love,
For those who have not seen their glorious home-
The home they long to share with weary souls
Who little heed their beckoning to come
Where greed and selfishness can find no place.
But now i know their only joy to be
The cry for pardon from some sin-sick soul.
'Tis then, and only then, they touch their harps
And fill all heav'n with thankful, gladsome song,
Because the One whom they adore and love
Died not in wain for a rebellious world.
And now i know the only healing balm
For those deep wounds my sins so oft have probed
Are tears of penitence that often flow,
And praises that awake in other hearts
The vibrant chords of sorrow and of love.
And so, dear Saviour, may I share with Thee
Thy sorrow for the ruin sin hath made;
And may I work as Thou shalt show me how
To life the burden Thou hast borne so long,
And gather in Thy lost ones to the fold,
And hasten that glad day when there shall be
No sin, no curse, nor memory of wrong--
That day when Thou shalt be well satisfied
For all the pain and travail of Thy soul.
-Ella M. Robinson