Christ has a gate far beyond all our thinking –
Hidden the key, and the lock no man knows;
Free as the wind in His secret appearings,
Sweetly He comes and then strangely He goes.

Ours but to seek Him with impatient patience!
They only thrive who will wait for His love,
Yet in the waiting besiege Him with weeping,
Making ado till He comes from above.

Christ by His dealings would fashion and mould us;
Carving out baseness, corruption and sin,
Making us perfect by pain and by wounding,
Forming His Father’s fair image within.

Daily we mar all our prospects of heaven,
Stumbling we falter, yet Christ makes us whole;
Kindly He lifts us with glimpses of glory,
Till all its splendour shall rise on our soul.

Faith Cook, Grace in Winter (Carlisle, PA.: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1989), 68. Copied from the blog Of First Importance.