This maxim, composed by Watchman Nee, could very well sum up his life and ministry
Let me love and not be respected;
Let me serve and not be rewarded;
Let me labor and not be remembered;
Let me suffer and not be regarded
‘Tis the pouring not the drinking;
Tis the breaking, not the keeping —
A life suffering to seek others’ blessing,
A life loving and true comfort giving
Not expecting pity and concern,
Not accepting solace and applause;
Even lonely, even forgotten,
Even wordless, even forsaken.
Tears and blood my price for the righteous crown shall be;
Losing all, my cost for a faithful pilgrim’s life.
‘Tis the life, O Lord, that You chose to live
In those days when on earth You walked,
Gladly suffering all injuries and loss
So that all might draw near and repose.
I cannot see how much farther I shall go;
Still I press on knowing there is no return.
Let me follow Your pattern so perfect and true,
Bearing ingratitudes without complaint.
In this time of trial, O Lord, I pray
That You’ll wipe all my hidden tears away;
Let me learn, O Lord, You are my reward,
Let me be others’ blessing all my days.
A hymn composed in 1922
What length, breadth, height and depth!
What greatness is His love!
How else could I, a sinner vile,
Be in such grace and bliss?
My Lord has paid the price
To buy me for Himself.
So, willingly I’ll bear the cross
To follow Him steadfast.
I’ve now abandoned all
That I may thus gain Christ.
No thought or care of life or death,
Nothing can hold me back.
Friends, pleasures, gain and fame . . .
No longer useful be.
My Lord became so poor for me,
His poverty I’d share.
I love my Saviour dear;
His praise is my desire.
For Him, let ease be turned to pain,
Let gain be turned to loss.
My Comforter Thou art,
Jesus my gracious Lord!
Who do I have in heav’n but Thee?
Who else my love on earth?
I care not for the pain,
Hardship and loneliness.
Dear Lord, embrace my spirit, soul
and body with Thy love.
I ask of Thee, my Lord,
To guide me with Thy grace;
Stand by my side to give me strength
To safely pass through life.
Satan, flesh, and the world
Do tempt and press me sore;
Unless Thy might upholds me,
Lord, I just might shame Thy name.
While time is fleeting by,
Lift me above this world;
That at Thy return I can sing,
“Hallelujah, Amen.”
A hymn composed in 1924
If from the right course I depart,
At once comfort I’ll find;
But I remember how my Lord
Did suffer agony.
I’d utterly forsake this world,
And sever all the ties.
My path may narrow more and more;
I’m but a pilgrim here.
Though men may scowl and laugh to scorn,
I only want His smile.
Let others fancy outward shows,
His “best” is my desire.
Not after greatness do I seek,
Nor success in this life.
But humbly I would serve the Lord
That day to gain His praise.
I’m daily gazing at the light
Out of His judgment seat,
That all my living and my works
May stand the test of fire.
You may run after name and fame,
Or glory, wealth, and friends.
You can have all your great success,
Your followers and praise.
In solitude and poverty,
I wish to prosper not;
But faithfully I’ll follow Him
Until I reach the goal.
I know, while here to earth He came,
His only gain was “death.”
That’s why no other wish have I
But with Him to suffer loss.
Since all my glories lie ahead,
Now patient I must be.
I will not go before my Lord
Much glory to receive.
That day, my honour I’ll receive;
The Lord will dry my tears.
Today, while He must tarry still,
I’ll press on faithfully.
A hymn composed in 1951 shortly before Watchman lost his freedom
If from the right course I depart,
At once comfort I’ll find;
But I remember how my Lord
Did suffer agony.
I’d utterly forsake this world,
And sever all the ties.
My path may narrow more and more;
I’m but a pilgrim here.
Though men may scowl and laugh to scorn,
I only want His smile.
Let others fancy outward shows,
His “best” is my desire.
Not after greatness do I seek,
Nor success in this life.
But humbly I would serve the Lord
That day to gain His praise.
I’m daily gazing at the light
Out of His judgment seat,
That all my living and my works
May stand the test of fire.
You may run after name and fame,
Or glory, wealth, and friends.
You can have all your great success,
Your followers and praise.
In solitude and poverty,
I wish to prosper not;
But faithfully I’ll follow Him
Until I reach the goal.
I know, while here to earth He came,
His only gain was “death.”
That’s why no other wish have I
But with Him to suffer loss.
Since all my glories lie ahead,
Now patient I must be.
I will not go before my Lord
Much glory to receive.
That day, my honor I’ll receive;
The Lord will dry my tears.
Today, while He must tarry still,
I’ll press on faithfully.
A hymn composed in 1951 shortly before Watchman lost his freedom
Since long ago at Bethany we parted,
Within my heart there is a ceaseless void;
How can I take my harp down from the willow?
How can my songs without Thee be enjoyed?
And when at night I’m keeping lonely vigil,
Grown numb alike to sorrow and to cheer,
Then I recall the promise of Thy coming,
But sigh, 0 Lord, why, why Thou dost not yet appear?
The manger wakes the thought: I too am homeless;
Thy cross strips earthly pleasures from my soul;
Thy coming bids me seek a better country,
For Thou Thyself art now my final goal.
Since Thou art gone my joy has lost its flavor;
My song the sweetness I would fain convey.
Since Thou art gone the sense of void o’erwhelms me,
Oh, how I long that Thou wilt come and not delay.
Though even now I know Thy loving presence,
Yet in my heart there’s still a sense of lack.
Enlightening and tenderest sustaining
Can no more satisfy: I want Thee back.
Despite Thy peace within, I still feel lonely;
Despite Thy joy there still remains a sigh;
When I feel more content, the silent yearning
To see Thee face to face becomes an uttered cry.
What exile cannot but desire his homeland
And long his people once again to greet?
What soul on alien soil forgets his kindred?
What parted lovers never yearn to meet?
O Lord, how can these earthly loves and pleasures
With all the joy of Thy return compare?
Then, if I cannot here behold Thy countenance,
What can I do but sigh till Thou, my Lord, appear?
Could’st Thou, O Lord, forget Thy word of promise
Soon to return and take me unto Thee?
Yet day by day and year by year I’ve waited
And still I wait, and no return I see.
Remember, Lord, the years I have been waiting
While Thy dear footsteps linger far away.
How long? How long? Oh! must I wait still longer
Till Thou shalt come again in glorious array?
From generation unto generation
Thy saints have come and gone, but have not seen
Thy glorious promise pass into fulfillment.
How long, how very long the time has been!
Why cannot we, dear Lord, discern Thy footsteps?
Why are the heavens still so closely sealed?
Oh! must our waiting be prolonged still further
Before Thou in Thy matchless splendor art revealed?
Lord, I recall the many years I’ve waited
For Thy return—yet, Lord, not I alone,
But Thy dear saints through many generations—
Beseeching Thee to come back for Thine own.
To countless tears and countless fervent pleadings,
By Thine appearing haste to make reply.
Oh, may Thou come, the echo of the ages,
Come, come and answer now this mighty corp’rate cry!
