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Teach Me To Love by Louise Knight Wheatley Cook

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Announcements Forums Love — January 31st, 2021 Teach Me To Love by Louise Knight Wheatley Cook

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    There was a time when in my daily prayer
    I asked for all he things I deemed most fair,
    And necessary to my life, —success,
    Riches, of course, and ease, and happiness,
    A host of friends, a home without alloy,
    A primrose path of luxury and joy,
    Social distinction, and enough of fame
    To leave behind a well-remembered name.
    Ambition ruled my life. I longed to do
    Great things, that all my little world might view
    And whisper, “Wonderful!”

    Ah, patient God,
    How blind we are, until Thy shepherd’s rod
    Of tender chastening gently leads us on
    To better things! Today I have but one
    Petition, Lord — Teach me to love, Indeed,
    It is my greatest and my only need.
    Teach me to love, not those who first love me,
    But all the world, with that rare purity
    Of broad, outreaching thought which bears no trace
    Of earthly taint, but holds in its embrace
    Humanity, and only seems to see
    The good in all, reflected, Lord, from Thee.
    And teach me, Father, how to love the most
    Those who most stand in need of love — that host
    Of people who are sick and poor and bad,
    Whose tired faces show their lives are sad.
    Who toil along the road with footsteps slow,
    And hearts more heavy than the world can know —
    People whom others pass discreetly by,
    Or fail to hear the pleading of that cry
    For help, amid the tumult of the crowd,
    Whose very anguish makes them cold and proud,
    Resentful, stubborn, bitter in their grief —
    I want to bring them comfort and relief,
    To put my hand in theirs, and at their side
    Walk softly on, a faithful, fearless guide.

    O Saviour, thou the Christ, Truth, ever near,
    Help me to feel thee sad ones doubly dear
    Because they need so much! Help me to seek
    And find that which they thought was lost; to speak
    Such words of cheer that as we pass along
    The wilderness will blossom into song.
    Ah, Love divine, how empty was that prayer
    Of other days! That which was once so fair, —
    Those flimsy baubles which the world calls joys
    Are nothing to me now but broken toys,
    Outlive, outgrown, I thank Thee that I know
    Those much-desired dreams of long ago,
    Like butterflies, have had there summer’s day
    Of brief enchantment, and have gone, I pray
    For better things. Thou knowest, God above,
    My one desire now — teach me to love.

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Love is the liberator.