All night the lonely surprise prayed,
All night his earnest crying made,
Till standing by his side at morn,
The Tempter said in bitter scorn,
'Oh! peace:--what profit do you gain
From empty words and babblings vain?
'Come, Lord--oh, come!' you cry alway;
You pour your heart out night and day;
Yet still no murmur of reply,--
No voice that answers, 'Here am I.''

Then sank that stricken heart in dust,
That word had withered all its trust;
No strength retained it now to pray,
While Faith and Hope had fled away:
And ill that mourner now had fared,
Thus by the Tempter's art ensnared,
But that at length beside his bed
His sorrowing Angel stood, and said,--
'Doth it repent thee of thy love,
That never now is heard above
Thy prayer, that now not any more
It knocks at heaven's gate as before?'

--'I am cast out -- I find no place,
No hearing at the throne of grace.
'Come, Lord--oh, come!' I cry alway,
I pour my heart out night and day,
Yet never until now have won
The answer,--'Here am I, my son.''

--'Oh, dull of heart! enclosed doth lie,
In each 'Come, Lord,' an 'Here am I.'
Thy love, thy longing, are not thine--
Reflections of a love divine:
Thy very prayer to thee was given,
Itself a messenger from heaven.
Whom God rejects, they are not so;
Strong bands are round them in their woe:
Their hearts are bound with bands of brass,
That sigh or crying cannot pass.
All treasures did the Lord impart
To Pharaoh, save a contrite heart:
All other gifts unto his foes
He freely gives, nor grudging knows;
But Love's sweet smart, and costly pain,
A treasure for his friends remain.'