1 Is it to me the Master sends
The message of His grace?
Can He desire within my door
A dwelling place?
2 Oh, if like that in Bethany
My home might be so blest,
As to receive the Lord Himself,
The wondrous Guest,
3 How would swift love the place prepare
Where He should soon abide,
And every toil and every care
4 And when His step the threshold crossed,
How sacred evermore
Would be this little room of mine,
This lowly door!
5 Listen, my soul! He comes indeed
To be a guest of thine;
Know that thy human heart may be
His sacred shrine;
6 Sacred and blest forevermore,
Since He will enter there;
Oh, let His dwelling be prepared
With faith and prayer.
7 Wouldst thou unto the Master’s will
Thine own will consecrate?
Look on His brethren poor and sad,
Without thy gate;
8 Hear then what tender words He speaks,
The Sinless, Undefiled:
“Once I was poor, I dwelt on earth
A little child;
9 "And every gentle ministry
Of love, whate’er it be,
When given to My friendless ones,
Is given to Me."
10 Behold, He’s standing at the door;
Hasten thy Lord to meet!
Bid Him come in that thou mayst kneel
Low at His feet.
11 There wilt thou learn, as Mary did,
The heavenly path to choose.
O Savior, enter! Let me not
Thy presence lose!