The King Alone Can Bring

Is there one shred of obedience which my hand alone can bring?


Nothing, my dear, nothing at all.


Is
there
due
tribute
to
render
the
King?


Nothing, my child, nothing at all.


Is there a tear, one drop, to move Him to pity?


Nothing, my son, nothing at all.


Is there no song? No pleasing theme to sing?


Nothing, my dear; nothing, nothing.


Then what shall I do? If I can bring nothing? What shall I render? If I can offer nothing? Surely I am doomed.


And I heard these words which tasted like honey:


"The King, the King alone can bring,
what rightly he demands - yet, he alone is pleased,
with what he alone can bring,
no work which you can do,
can make Him crack a smile.
The tribute which you offer,
can never Him beguile.
The tears which flow like fountains,
though they be sincere and salty,
will never emote His pardon nor grant a look of favor,
A song could not incline His ear,
to listen to your plea,
though beautiful and sweetly played,
Wrath alone kindles upon the striking of the notes,
But the obedience He requires,
He offers it himself,
In perfect life and death surrendered,
A tribute of love and grace,
The wailing and the flowing,
of tears and blood and wrath,
Compose a song of sweet redemption,
A chorus of mercy,
In the death of the King."