Henry Cust.

1861-1917

889   Non Nobis

NOT unto us, O Lord,
Not unto us the rapture of the day,
The peace of night, or love’s divine surprise,
High heart, high speech, high deeds’mid honouring eyes;
For at Thy word
All these are taken away.

Not unto us, O Lord:
To us thou givest the scorn, the scourge, the scar,
The ache of life, the loneliness of death,
The insufferable sufficiency of breath;
And with Thy sword
Thou piercest very far.

Not unto us, O Lord:
Nay, Lord, but unto her be all things given—
May light and life and earth and sky be blasted—
But let not all that wealth of love be wasted:
Let Hell afford
The pavement of her Heaven!