The (American) Bride

Once a daughter, silent sleeping
Woke unto a blissful sight-
That she had grown through wont and weeping
To become a bride of striking might.

Ran she from her ample slumber,
Calling dawn with steady chords;
“Lie we no more, tarry, lumber,
Draw we now our battle swords!”

‘Twas grace that taught her heart to sing,
Selfless love that gave her purpose;
Humility bought that precious ring
For which her heart e’er searchest.

Oh, take my heart and make me better,
Take my heart and make me bold.
Bind my spirit in richest fetter,
And give my hand a ring of gold.

Too long ago, before she slept,
She knew her ardent lover.
Too soon thereafter, ran she off
To the tight grip of another.

Stubborn she, and often selfish,
Trusting not her bridegroom’s way,
Levees built to stay her passion
Long ago had given way.

So, lumbered she, encumbered greatly
With riches, comfort, charm-ed life,
Until the burden proved too heavy
For the bridegroom’s ailing wife.

Never was she meant to carry
Such a load of toil and strain;
But thought she this would win the favor
Of her groom, His heart’s refrain.

Oh, take my heart and make me better,
Take my heart and make me bold.
Bind my spirit in richest fetter,
And give my hand a ring of gold.

Thus she slumbered in her working,
Never peaceful, forging on;
So slowly did she come to realize
She had His true love all along.

And, as she wandered, bleakly peering,
Searching to and tossing fro,
She sensed His ever-lasting Spirit
Lead her where she longed to go.

“Oh! Lead me farther into glory,
Make my face to shine and glow;
Dress me proud in white-washed linen
To match my heart of purest snow.”

Oh, take my heart and make me better,
Take my heart and make me bold.
Bind my spirit in richest fetter,
And give my hand a ring of gold.

Her other lover left her weary,
Proving never to fulfill;
For riches can not reap the harvest;
Riches know not how to till.

Returned she weak and heavy-laden
To He who loved and knew her best;
Ashamed was she, but joyous He
And offered kindly her to rest.

His heart a fount of pure emotion
Yearning for His cherished one;
She now could see with both eyes open;
Her days of slumber now were done.

Professed He to His purest bride,
“I vow to love you always, true.”
And gently hushed in velvet whisper,
She gave her heart and said, “I do.”

Oh, take my heart and make me better,
Take my heart and make me bold.
Bind my spirit in richest fetter,
And give my hand a ring of gold.