Oh! let me then at length be taught Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide. Thou, therefore, all the praise receive; Be shame and self-abhorrence mine. XLII. MOURNING AND LONGING. THE Saviour hides his face ; The favour'd souls who know Pant for his presence as the roe What trifles tease me now! Of all the truths I hear, Yet let me (as I ought) No pleasure else is worth a thought, Though I am but a worm, The Lord will my desire perform, DEAR Lord! accept a sinful heart, And mourns, with much and frequent smart, There fiery seeds of anger lurk, Legality holds out a bribe To purchase life from thee; While Unbelief withstands thy grace, How eager are my thoughts to roam, Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood, And make me thy beloved abode, XLIV. PRAYER FOR PATIENCE. LORD, who hast suffer'd all for me, Man should not faint at thy rebuke, Like Joshua falling on his face, When the cursed thing that Achan took Brought Israel into just disgrace. Perhaps some golden wedge suppress'd, Some secret sin offends my God; Perhaps that Babylonish vest, Self-righteousness, provokes the rod. Ah! were I buffeted all day, I Mock'd, crown'd with thorns, and spit upon, yet should have no right to say, My great distress is mine alone. Let me not angrily declare No pain was ever sharp like mine, Nor murmur at the cross I bear, But rather weep, remembering thine. O LORD, my best desire fulfill, Life, health, and comfort to thy will, Why should I shrink at thy command, Or tremble at the gracious hand 26 Joshua, vii. 10, 11. No, rather let me freely yield Thy favour, all my journey through, Wisdom and mercy guide my way, A poor blind creature of a day, But ah! my inward spirit cries, Else the next cloud that veils the skies XLVI. THE HAPPY CHANGE. How bless'd thy creature is, O God, He views the lustre of thy word, The dayspring from on high! Through all the storms that veil the skies Struck by that light, the human heart, Sends the sweet smell of grace abroad, The soul, a dreary province once Feels a new empire form'd within, 27 Isaiah xxxv. 7. The glorious orb whose golden beams Has cheer'd the nations with the joys FAR from the world, O Lord, I flee, The calm retreat, the silent shade, There if thy Spirit touch the soul, Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love, There like the nightingale she pours Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise. Author and guardian of my life, Sweet source of light divine, And,—all harmonious names in one,— My Saviour! Thou art mine! What thanks I owe thee, and what love, A boundless, endless store, Shall echo through the realms above When time shall be no more. |