How shall I follow Him I serve?
How shall I copy Him I love?
Not from the Blessed footsteps swerve,
Which lead me to His seat above?
Privations, sorrows, bitter scorn,
The life of toil, the mean abode,
The faithless kiss, the crown of thorn,
Are these the consecrated road?
O let me think how Thou didst leave
Untasted every pure delight,
To fast, to faint, to watch, to grieve,
The toilsome day, the homeless night.
To faint, to grieve, to die for me!
Thou camest, not Thyself to please;
And, dear as earthly comforts be,
Shall I not love Thee more than these?
Yes, I would count them all but loss,
To gain the notice of Thine eye:
Flesh shrinks and trembles at the cross,
But Thou canst give the victory.
About the writer: Josiah Conder was born in London in 1789. At an early age he lost the sight of his right eye. In 1832 he started a newspaper, which he continued to edit and publish until his death in 1855. He published more than a dozen scholarly volumes during his life as well as a Congregational hymn book, published in 1836.
Key Verse: Then he said to the crowd, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must put aside your selfish ambition, shoulder your cross daily, and follow me. –Luke 9:23