"BEHOLD, THE BRIDEGROOM COMETH!"

I. Behold, a Royal Bridegroom Hath called me for His bride! I joyfully make ready And hasten to His side. He is a Royal Bridegroom, But I am very poor! Of low estate He chose me To show His love the more: For He hath purchased for me Such goodly, rich array,— Oh, surely never Bridegroom Gave gifts like His away. II. When first upon the mountains, I, in the vale below, Beheld Him waiting for me, Heard His command to go, I, poorest in the valley, Oh, how could I prepare To meet His royal presence? How could I make me fair? Ah! in His love He sent me A garment clean and white: And promised broidered raiment All glorious in His sight. And then He gave me glimpses Of the jewels for my hair, And the ornament most precious For His chosen bride to wear. III. First in my tears I washed me,— They could not make me clean: A fountain then He showed me, Strange until then unseen! So close I'd lived beside it For many weary years, Yet passing by the fountain Had bathed me in my tears. Oh, love, oh, grace, that showed it! Revealed its cleansing power! How could I choose but hasten To meet Him from that hour. IV. I said, delay no longer; He surely will provide All for the toilsome journey, Up the steep mountain side. He sought me in the valley— He knows my utmost need; But He's a Royal Bridegroom, I shall be rich indeed. Rich in His pardoning mercies,— Bounties that never cease: Rich in His loving kindness, Rich in His joy and peace, So then I took the Raiment. And the jewels that He sent; And, gazing on His beauty, I up the hillside went. V. And still with feeble footsteps, And turning oft astray, I go to meet the Bridegroom, Though stumbling by the way I soil my royal garments With earth whene'er I fall; I break and mar my ornaments, But He will know them all. For it was He who gave them; Will He forget His own? Ah! for the love He bore me, He called! will He disown? VI. He sent His Guide to guide me: He knew how blind, how frail The children of the valley:— He knew my love would fail. He knew the mists above me Would hide Him from my sight. And I, in darkness groping, Would wander from the right. I know that I must follow Slow when I fain would soar: That step by step thus upward, My Guide must go before. VII. Cleave close, dear Guide, and lead me! I cannot go aright! Through all that doth beset me, Keep, keep me close in sight! 'Tis but a little longer; Methinks the end I see: Oh! matchless love and mercy, The Bridegroom waits for me; Waits, to present me faultless, Before His Father's throne; His comeliness my beauty, His righteousness my own. —Unidentified.