How eager are my thoughts to roam
In quest of what they love!
But ah! when duty calls them home,
How heavily they move!
Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood,
Transform me by Thy power,
And make me Thy beloved abode,
And let me rove no more!
27. BITTER AND SWEET.
KINDLE, Saviour, in my heart
A flame of love divine.
Hear, for mine I trust Thou art,
And sure I would be Thine.
If my soul has felt Thy grace,
If to me Thy name is known,
Why should trifles fill the place
Due to Thyself alone?
'Tis a strange mysterious life
I live from day to day;
Light and darkness, peace and strife,
Bear an alternate sway.
When I think the battle won,
I have to fight it o'er again;
When I say I'm overthrown,
Relief I soon obtain.
Often at the Mercy-seat,
While calling on Thy name,
Swarms of evil thoughts I meet,
Which fill my soul with shame.
Agitated in my mind,
Like a feather in the air,
Can I thus a blessing find?
My soul, can this be prayer?
But when Christ, my Lord and Friend,
Is pleased to show His power,
All at once my troubles end,
And I've a golden hour.
Then I see His smiling face,
Feel the pledge of joys to come.
Often, Lord, repeat this grace
Till Thou shalt call me home.
28. C. PRAYER FOR PATIENCE.
LORD, who hast suffer'd all for me,
My peace and pardon to procure,
The lighter cross I bear for Thee
Help me with patience to endure!
The storm of loud repining hush;
I would in humble silence mourn:
Why should the unburnt, though burning
bush,
Be angry as the crackling thorn?
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,
Mock'd, crown'd with thorns, and spit
upon,
I 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 fulfil,
And help me to resign
Life, health, and comfort, to Thy will,
And make Thy pleasure mine.
Why should I shrink at Thy command,
Whose love forbids my fears?
Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my tears?
No, rather let me freely yield
What most I prize to Thee,
Who never hast a good withheld,
Or wilt withhold from me.
Thy favour all my journey through
Thou art engaged to grant ;
What else I want, or think I do,
'Tis better still to want.
Wisdom and Mercy guide my way,
Shall I resist them both?
A poor blind creature of a day,
And crush'd before the moth!
But ah! my inward spirit cries,
Still bind me to Thy sway;
Else the next cloud that veils the skies
Drives all these thoughts away.
30. WHY SHOULD I COMPLAIN?
WHEN my Saviour, my Shepherd, is near, How quickly my sorrows depart!
New beauties around me appear,
New spirits enliven my heart;
His presence gives peace to my soul,
And Satan assaults me in vain;
While my Shepherd His power controls,
I think I no more shall complain.
But, alas! what a change do I find,
When my Shepherd withdraws from my
My fears all return to my mind,
My day is soon changed into night.
Then Satan his efforts renews
To vex and ensnare me again;
All my pleasing enjoyments I lose,
And can only lament and complain.
By these changes I often pass through,
I am taught my own weakness to know;
I am taught what my Shepherd can do,
And how much to His mercy I owe :
It is He that supports me through all;
When I faint He revives me again;
He attends to my prayer when I call,
And bids me no longer complain.
Wherefore then should I murmur and grieve,
Since my Shepherd is always the same,
And has promised He never will leave*
The soul that confides in His name?
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