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I need not to confess my life,
For surely Thou canst tell What I have been ; and what I am,
Thou knowest very well.
So come I to the throne of grace,
Where mercy doth abound, Desiring mercy for my sins,
To heal my deadly wound.
Mercy, O Lord ! mercy I ask :
This is the total sum ; For mercy, Lord, is all my prayer :
Oh let Thy mercy come!
HERE is the Spring where waters flow,
To quench our heat of sin : Here is the tree where truth doth grow,
To lead our lives therein.
Here is the Judge that stints the strife,
Where men's devices fail :
That death cannot assail.
The tidings of salvation dear,
Come to our ears from hence ; The fortress of our faith is here,
And shield of our defence.
Then be not like the swine, that hath
A pearl at his desire, And takes more pleasure in the trough,
And wallowing in the mire.
Read not this Book, in any case,
But with a single eye: Read not, but first desire God's grace
To understand thereby.
Pray still in faith, with this respect,
To fructify therein ; That knowledge may bring this effect,
To mortify thy sin.
Then happy thou in all thy life,
What so to thee befals ;
When God by death thee calls.
" ARE THEY NOT ALL MINISTERING SPIRITS!
AND is there care in heaven? and is there love
That blessed angels He sends to and fro,
How oft do they their silver bowers leave
And all for love, and nothing for reward :
“ THE GRASS WITHERETH, THE FLOWER FADETH.”
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of earth and sky,
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
And thou must die.
Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives ;
Then chiefly lives.