Pain knocked at my door and said she’d come to stay.
Though I would not welcome her but bade her go away,
Still she entered —
And like my shade she followed after me,
And from her stabbing stinging sword
No moment was I free.
And then one day another knocked most gently at my door.
I cried, “No! Pain is living here; there’s no room for more.”
And then I heard His tender voice, “‘Tis I, be not afraid.”
And from that day He entered in – the difference that it made!
For though He did not bid her leave — my strange unwelcome guest,
He taught me how to live with her;
And no one ever guessed that we could dwell so sweetly here –
My Lord, and pain and I – within this fragile house of clay,
While years slip slowly by.