He wooed that free-willed woman with flowers and with gold,
He shared His deepest secrets and bared His very soul.
The sun each day and moon at night, He gave to her His love,
A lofty melody He gave her, sung by the mourning dove.
He held back nothing, what was His was hers also,
He showed her all the work of His hands, so better she would know
How much He Loved, and cared for her, without limit, without bounds,
He even offered her a kingdom and also golden crown.
But she would not put her trust in Him, she of little faith,
She could not dare conceive the fact He’d built a special place.
A mansion of the grandest design, a heavenly abode,
She would not follow Him on down His straight and narrow road.
He asked her for a place in the center of her heart,
She said she couldn’t go that far, but would gladly give Him part.
A jealous type He can’t concede to sharing with another,
“I will not be a second string; I will not be a brother.”
He gave His only Son to her, no greater gift to give.
But she spurned His love, and mine as well, and lonely she will live.
He must move on, He’s tried in vain to have her take His name,
For there are others whom He loves and will love Him quite the same.
One day she will yet miss Him, and wonder where He’s gone,
“I am what I am forever, and for me she’ll ever long.”
The master she has chosen doesn’t love her, nor she him,
She missed her chance for His Grace, now she’s swallowed by her sin.
What a waste, what a shame, she could have had it all,
If only she’d have listened, and came when He did call.
Tertius
The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness.
Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish,
but everyone to come to repentance.
2 Peter 3:9
A note about “The Call of Love”: How great the pain when the love we give to another is thrown back in our face. When hard hearts reject us, no matter how much of ourselves we give. Our feelings must be so minuscule in proportion to God’s great Love for such an evil world.