The Window

Why do you labor so, said she,

To keep the window clean?

Why do you take such pain and care,

Why must it spotless be?

Do you admire the window pane,

Its shine so crystal clear?

You clean it - oh, so carefully,

Why do you find it dear?

It’s not the window that I prize,

And count so very dear:

It’s what is seen beyond the glass,

That brings me joy and cheer!

Lord Jesus, would you labor so,

To keep the window clean:

The window of my heart and life,

So you, Lord, can be seen?

It’s not the window that I prize,

And count so very dear;

It’s what is seen beyond the glass,

That brings me joy and cheer!

So cleanse me, Lord, so carefully,

And make me crystal clear,

That folk may see not me but thee,

And also find you dear.

Transparent personality,

A glass through which to see,

To that which lies beyond myself,

None other, Lord, but thee!