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  Coming to the King  


I came from very far to see
        The King of Salem, for I had been told
Of glory and of wisdom manyfold,
    And condescension infinite and free.
Now could I rest, when I had heard his fame,
    In that dark lonely land of death, from whence I came?

I came (but not like Sheba's queen), alone!
            No stately train, no costly gifts to bring;
No friend at court, save One the King!
        I had requests to spread before His throne,
And I had questions none could solve for me,
            Of import deep, and full of mystery.

I came and communed with that mighty King
            And told Him all my heart, I cannot say
In mortal ear what communings were they
    But wouldst thou know,
        So too, and meekly bring
All that is in thine heart and thou shalt hear
    His voice of love and power
                    His answers sweet and clear

O happy end of every weary guest!
        He told me all I needed graciously:--
    Enough for guidance, and for victory
            O'er doubts and fears enough for quiet rest,
        And when some veiled response
             I could not read
                    It was not hid from Him, this was enough indeed

His wisdom and His glories passed before
    My wondering eyes in gradual revelation
The house that He had built its strong foundation
    Its living stones and, brightening more and more
For glimpses of that palace far away,
        Where all his loyal ones
                Shall dwell with Him for aye.

True the report that reached my far-off land
         Of all His wisdom and transcendent fame,
    Yet I believed not until I came
Bowed to the dust till raised by royal hand
        The half was never told by mortal word,
    My King exceeded all the fame that I had heard

        Oh happy are His servants! happy they
Who stand continually before His face,
            Ready to do His will of wisest grace!
    My King! is mine such blessedness to-day?
            For I too hear Thy wisdom line by line,
    Thy ever brightening words in holy radiance shine

                    Oh, blessed be the Lord they God who sat
        Our King upon His throne
                Divine delight
    In the Beloved crowning Thee with might
        Honour and majesty supreme and yet
    The strange and Godlike secret opening thus--
The Kingship of His Christ ordained through love to us!

    What shall I render to my glorious King?
I have but that which I receive from Thee
And what I give, Thou givest back to me,
        Transmuted by Thy touch, each worthless thing
    Changed to the preciousness of gem or gold,
            And by thy blessing multiplied a thousand fold

    All my desire Thou grantest whatsoer I ask!
         Was ever mythic tale or dream so bold as this reality,
    This stream of boundless blessings flowing full and free?
Yet more than I have thought or asked of Thee
        Out of Thy royal bounty still Thou givest me.

Now--I will turn to my own land and tell,
    What I myself have seen and heard of Thee,
And give Thine own sweet message, "Come and see"
    And yet in heart and mind for ever dwell
With Thee, my King of Peace, in loyal rest,
    Within the fair pavilion of Thy presence blest.

       - Frances Ridley Havergal

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