I stood a mendicant of God before His royal throne,
and begged Him for one priceless gift which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart,
I cried, "But Lord, this is a thorn, and it has pierced my heart.
"This is a strange, a hurtful gift which Thou hast given me."
He said, "My child, I give good gifts, and gave my best to thee."
I took it home, and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.
--Martha Snell Nicholson
and begged Him for one priceless gift which I could call my own.
I took the gift from out His hand, but as I would depart,
I cried, "But Lord, this is a thorn, and it has pierced my heart.
"This is a strange, a hurtful gift which Thou hast given me."
He said, "My child, I give good gifts, and gave my best to thee."
I took it home, and though at first the cruel thorn hurt sore,
As long years passed I learned at last to love it more and more.
I learned He never gives a thorn without this added grace,
He takes the thorn to pin aside the veil which hides His face.
--Martha Snell Nicholson
