| |
| (The author's own feeling |
| about her life.) |
| |
| I looked into my mirror tonight |
| And deep within it there |
| I saw the face of the Saviour |
| And I couldn't help but stare. |
| |
| I saw the anguish in His eyes |
| And I couldn't understand |
| What brought such sorrow to His face |
| As He stretched out His nail-pierced hand. |
| |
| I listened then as He spoke to me |
| His voice was tender but sad |
| "Oh, where, dear child, did you hide them |
| The talents that once you had. |
| |
| I gave you a class of little tots |
| To lovingly care for and teach |
| Their hearts were so young and tender |
| They would have been easy to reach. |
| |
| And when you were tired of them you said, |
| You'd have to take a rest |
| You promised you'd use your talent |
| But you failed to stand the test. |
| |
| I gave you a voice to sing in the choir |
| So faithful were you to attend |
| And many a heart was lifted |
| As your voice with the others did blend. |
| |
| And when you were tired of the choir you said |
| You just couldn't sit up there |
| You promised you'd use your talent |
| But you just left an empty chair. |
| |
| I gave you a smile to show the world |
| And a tender heart filled with love |
| You witnessed so freely to all whom you'd meet |
| And told of your Saviour's love. |
| |
| And when you were tired of this talent you
said |
| That men's hearts were just too dead |
| You promised you'd be a winner of souls |
| But became grumbling and bitter instead. |
| |
| And I saw His stricken face |
| And heard the words He spoke to me |
| My heart was filled with shame and grief |
| That my life could so empty be. |
| |
| Then, as I watched His image there |
| My eyes behold a rough old tree |
| I saw the crown of thorns He wore |
| As He hung on that cross for me. |
| |
| So many things He'd promise me |
| Salvation -- a Home up above |
| Eternal life with Him some day |
| All paid for with His love. |
| |
| But what if He should get weary |
| Of the foolishness and delay |
| And decide that we're not worth the price |
| That it cost to buy us that day? |
| |
| And as His image faded away |
| I begged Him not to depart |
| I couldn't let my feeble excuses |
| just crowd Him out of my heart. |
| |
| I fell on my knees and I cried to Him there |
| To give me another start |
| That my life might reflect the Christ of the
cross |
| In the mirror of some other heart. |
