Is not thine a captured heart?
Chief among ten thousand own Him;
Joyful choose the better part.
Worthy tribute haste to bring;
Let His peerless worth constrain thee,
Crown Him now unrivaled King.
Lovely things of time and sense;
Gilded thus does sin disarm thee,
Honeyed lest thou turn thee thence.
From the idols of the earth?
Not a sense of right or duty,
But the sight of peerless worth.
With its bitter void and smart;
But the beaming of His beauty,
The unveiling of His heart.
Till they hail the rising sun?
Who discards the garb of winter
Till the summer has begun?
’Tis that face that Stephen saw,
’Tis that heart that wept with Mary,
Can alone from idols draw:
Till the cup o’erflow the brim;
What have we to do with idols
Who have companied with Him?