Olives that have known no pressure
No oil can bestow;
If the grapes escape the winepress,
Cheering wine can never flow;
Spikenard only through the crushing,
Fragrance can diffuse.
Shall I then, Lord, shrink from suff’ring
Which Thy love for me would choose?
Each blow I suffer
Is true gain to me.
In the place of what Thou takest
Thou dost give Thyself to me.

Do my heart-strings need Thy stretching,
Songs divine to prove?
Do I need for sweetest music
Cruel treatment of Thy love?
Lord, I fear no deprivation
If it draws to Thee;
I would yield in full surrender
All Thy heart of love to see.
I’m ashamed, my Lord, for seeking
Self to guard alway;
Though Thy love has done its stripping,
Yet I’ve been compelled this way.
Lord, according to Thy pleasure
Fully work on me;
Heeding not my human feelings,
Only do what pleases Thee.
If Thy mind and mine should differ,
Still pursue Thy way;
If Thy pleasure means my sorrow,
Still my heart shall answer, “Yea!”
’Tis my deep desire to please Thee,
Though I suffer loss;
E’en though Thy delight and glory
Mean that I endure the cross.
Oh, I’ll praise Thee, e’en if weeping
Mingle with my song.
Thine increasing sweetness calls forth
Grateful praises all day long.
Thou hast made Thyself more precious
Than all else to me:
Thou increase and I decrease, Lord-
This is now my only plea.