THE GOSPEL MARKET

Gold or spices have I none,
For a present to my King,
All my livelihood is gone,
Only rags and wounds I bring.

But I'll traffic, Lord, with Thee,
For Thy market suits me well;
All my blessings must be free,
And I know Thou wilt not sell.

Yet my Jesus bids me buy,
Something sure he would receive;
Well, to please Him I will try,
And my something I will give.

Take my burdens for Thy rest,
Tale my death for Thy live given,
Take my rags for Thy rich vest,
Take my hell for Thy sweet heaven.

Now the sale I understand,
Know what Jesus' market is;
Much He asketh of my hand,
All my woe to buy His bliss.

John Berridge (1716-1793