He cannot deny Himself

Love still is Love, and doeth all things well,
Whether He show me heaven or hell
Or earth in her decay
Passing away
On a day.

Love still is Love, tho’ He should say, “Depart,”
And break my incorrigible heart,
And set me out of sight
Widowed of light
In the night.

Love still is Love, is Love, if He should say,
“Come,” on that uttermost dread day;
“Come,” unto very me,
“Come where I be,
Come and see.”

Love still is Love, whatever comes to pass:
O Only Love, make me Thy glass,
Thy pleasure to fulfil
By loving still
Come what will.