At first we start, and feel distrest; But He whose mercy breaks the charm, And bids us seek His face. Then we begin to love indeed, We follow Him from day to day, Assured of grace through all the way, And glory at the end. "I HAVE RANSOMED HIM FROM THE POWER OF DEATH!" THANKLESS for favours from on high, Man thinks he fades too soon; But he, not wise enough to scan Would gladly stretch life's little span To ages, if he might: : To ages, in a world of pain, To ages, where he goes Galled by affliction's heavy chain, And hopeless of repose. Strange fondness of the human heart, Enamoured of its harm! Strange world!—that costs it so much smart, And still has power to charm. Whence has the world her magic power? Why deem we death a foe? Recoil from weary life's best hour, The cause is Conscience ;-Conscience oft Her tale of guilt renews ; Her voice is terrible, though soft, Then, anxious to be longer spared, 'Tis judgment shakes him; there's the fear, That prompts the wish to stay: He has incurred a long arrear, And must despair to pay. Pay!-follow Christ, and all is paid; "O THAT MY WAYS WERE DIRECTED TO KEEP THY STATUTES." OH! for a closer walk with God, Where is the blessedness I knew What peaceful hours I once enjoyed! But they have left an aching void, Return, O holy Dove, return, Sweet messenger of rest! I hate the sins that made Thee mourn, |