He Made Himself of No Reputation
Philippians 2:7
There dwelt with glory veiled, the Son of God
For thirty years, in that enclosure green
Of Galilean hills, the Power serene
Who framed the Universe, and with a nod
Sent planets on their courses, meekly trod
The village streets and lanes; and might be seen
Over His humble handicraft to lean;
Or pace in prayer the dewy mountain sod.
O mystery of Godliness how great!
Obedience of a lifetime how complete!
Who now can murmur at His low estate
Or who but feel the humblest duty sweet:
When “Is not this the carpenter?” was heard
Of Him Who built all things with a word!
Girded to Serve
Girded to serve, the Lord of Glory stands,
The basin and the towel in His hands;
Pours out the water, bondman-like, and then
He stoops to wash the feet of fallen men.
The myriad hosts of heaven downward gaze
Upon the scene in reverend amaze
To see the One they served with veiled face
Girded to serve among a fallen race.
Fallen in pride of heart, that thought it wise
To grasp a bauble “pleasant to the eyes”;
Girded to serve, He wipes their feet, Who came
To raise the fallen by a cross of shame.
Son of the Father’s love, He stoops to show
The mind, the heart of God to men so low.
‘Mongst all the sons of pride earth e’er begat
Who ever thought that heaven was like that?
O lovely lowliness! ennobling grace
That fills with heaven’s best earth’s lowest place!
O but to hold to this, nor from it swerve Girded to serve, my soul, girded to serve.
I.Y. Ewan
Philip Doddridge
“I was only a worthless pebble
Upon the beach of time,
Yet He stooped and declared to Heaven,
‘I have made this pebble Mine.’
And this is why I serve Him,
As I think of that crowded beach,
and shudder that when He was passing,
I might have been out of reach,
And left like the other pebbles,
To never be touched by His hand,
And tossed by the waves in life’s ocean,
And buried at last in the sand.”
G. Albert Ramsay
“...And They Shall See His Face”
Rev. 22:4
Face to face in yonder glory
Blissful moment yet to come,
When the Lord Himself returning
Gathers all His ransomed home;
Face to face with Christ my Saviour
All His loveliness to see,
In the Father’s house for ever,
Blest for all eternity.
Not the brightness of that morning,
Nor the glory of that place,
These are not the chief attraction,
I would see my Saviour’s face;
All I have His bounty gave me,
And my presence there above
Is the crowning proof for ever
Of His own unchanging love.
Philip Doddridge