1 I weep, but do not yield, I mourn, yet still rebel;
My inmost soul seems steeled, cold and immoveable.
The wound is sharp and deep; my spirit bleeds within;
And yet I lie asleep, and still I sin, I sin.
2 My bruisèd soul complains of stripes without, within;
I feel these piercing pains— yet still I sin, I sin.
O’er me the low cloud hung its weight of shade and fear;
Unmoved I passed along, and still my sin is here.
3 Yon massive mountain-peak the lightning rends at will;
The rock can melt or break— I am unbroken still.
My sky was once noon-bright, my day was calm the while,
I loved the pleasant light, the sunshine’s happy smile.
4 I said, my God, oh, sure, this love will kindle mine;
Let but this calm endure, then all my heart is Thine.
Alas, I knew it not! the summer flung its gold
Of sunshine o’er my lot, and yet my heart was cold.
5 Trust me with prosperous days, I said, O spare the rod;
Thee and Thy love I’ll praise, my gracious, patient God.
Must I be smitten, Lord? Are gentler measures vain?
Must I be smitten, Lord? Can nothing save but pain?
6 Thou trusted me a while; alas! I was deceived;
I reveled in the smile, yet to the dust I cleaved.
Then fierce the tempest broke, I knew from whom it came;
I read in that sharp stroke a Father’s hand and name.
7 And yet I did Thee wrong; dark thoughts of Thee came in—
A froward, selfish throng— and I allowed the sin!
I did Thee wrong, my God, I wronged Thy truth and love;
I fretted at the rod, against Thy power I strove.
8 I said, my God, at length, this stony heart remove;
Deny all other strength, but give me strength to love.
Come nearer, nearer still, let not Thy light depart;
Bend, break this stubborn will, dissolve this iron heart.
9 Less wayward let me be, more pliable and mild,
In glad simplicity more like a trustful child.
Less, less of self each day, and more, my God, of Thee;
O keep me in the way, however rough it be.
10 Less of the flesh each day, less of the world and sin;
More of Thy Son, I pray, more of Thyself within.
Riper and riper now, each hour let me become,
Less fit for scenes below, more fit for such a home.
11 More molded to Thy will, Lord, let Thy servant be,
Higher and higher still, liker and liker Thee.
Leave naught that is unmeet; of all that is mine own;
Strip me, and so complete my training for the throne.
Horatius Bonar was born at Edinburgh, in 1808. His education was obtained at the High School, and the University of his native city. He was ordained to the ministry, in 1837, and since then has been pastor at Kelso. In 1843, he joined the Free Church of Scotland. His reputation as a religious writer was first gained on the publication of the "Kelso Tracts," of which he was the author. He has also written many other prose works, some of which have had a very large circulation. Nor is he less favorably known as a religious poet and hymn-writer. The three series of "Hymns of Faith and Hope," have passed through several editions.
--Annotations of the Hymnal, Charles Hutchins, M.A. 1872… Go to person page >
I weep, but do not yield. H. Bonar. [Lent. Chastisement.] Appeared in the first series of his Hymns of Faith and Hope, 1857, in 22 stanzas of 4 lines, and entitled "The Rod." From this poem the following centos are in common use:—
1. I weep, but do not yield. The original text abridged.
2. Come nearer, nearer still. In Newman Hall's Christ Church Hymnal, 1876.
3. I did Thee wrong, my God. In several collections in G. Britain and America.
4. I said, my God, at length. In the 1874 Supplement to the New Congregational Hymn Book.
5. My sky was once noon-bright. In the American Sabbath Hymn Book, 1858.
Through these centos the poem has become well known and widely appreciated.
--John Julian, Dictionary of Hymnology (1907)
Display Title: I Weep, But Do Not YieldFirst Line: I weep, but do not yield, I mourn, yet still rebelTune Title: WILTZAuthor: Horatius BonarMeter: 184.108.40.206Source: Hymns of Faith and Hope (London: James Lisbet, 1857)