Olives that have known no pressure

Olives that have known no pressure
  No oil can bestow;
If the grapes escape the winepress,
  Cheering wine can never flow;
Spikenard only through the crushing,
  Fragrance can diffuse.
Shall I then, Lord, shrink from suff’ring
  Which Thy love for me would choose?

Do my heart-strings need Thy stretching,
  Songs divine to prove?
Do I need for sweetest music
  Cruel treatment of Thy love?
Lord, I fear no deprivation
  If it draws to Thee;
I would yield in full surrender
  All Thy heart of love to see.

I’m ashamed, my Lord, for seeking
  Self to guard alway;
Though Thy love has done its stripping,
  Yet I’ve been compelled this way.
Lord, according to Thy pleasure
  Fully work on me;
Heeding not my human feelings,
  Only do what pleases Thee.

If Thy mind and mine should differ,
  Still pursue Thy way;
If Thy pleasure means my sorrow,
  Still my heart shall answer, “Yea!”
’Tis my deep desire to please Thee,
  Though I suffer loss;
E’en though Thy delight and glory
  Mean that I endure the cross.

Oh, I’ll praise Thee, e’en if weeping
  Mingle with my song.
Thine increasing sweetness calls forth
  Grateful praises all day long.
Thou hast made Thyself more precious
  Than all else to me:
Thou increase and I decrease, Lord—
  This is now my only plea.