If You gave me a mountain of gold

(Gleanings from the Inner Life of Ruth Bryan)

"Behold, I am vile!" Job 40:4

"I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes."
Job 42:6

I fall blushingly at Your dear feet, and loathe myself
for my many abominations and shortcomings. Glorious
Lord, pardon and restore vile, vile me! I fall into Your
arms of 'injured love', to accept whatever punishment
You shall appoint. I deserve the worst You can inflict.
But, oh! for love's sake, let me see Your loving frown,
and feel Your loving stripe--but not find You gone.

Your absence is hell to the heart which has seen Your
glorious charms, and felt Your matchless love. Oh, do
not, do not leave me! And do not let me leave You!
I fly to Your blood, and cleave to the crucified One.

O Lord, if You gave me a mountain of gold--I would
turn from it, or climb over it--to get at Your precious self!