The Thorn
I stood a mendicant of God
before His royal throne
And begged Him for a 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
that Thou hast given me."
He said, "My child, I give good gifts
and give 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
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