66 FROM WHOM COMETH EVERY GOOD AND PERFECT GIFT." My stock lies dead, and no increase If still the sun should hide his face, The dew doth every morning fall; And shall the dew outstrip thy Dove? Death is still working like a mole, Let And digs my grave at each remove : Sin is still hammering my heart, Unto a hardness, void of love: Let suppl'ing grace, to cross his art, Drop from above. O come, for thou dost know the way; Or, if to me thou wilt not move, Remove me where I need not say,— Drop from above. Then let wrath remove; Love will do the deed : For with love Stony hearts will bleed. Love is swift of foot: Love's a man of war, And can shoot, And can hit from far. Who can 'scape his bow? That which wrought on Thee, Brought Thee low, Needs must work on me : Throw away Thy rod; Though man frailties hath; Thou art God: Throw away Thy wrath. 66 DOING ALL TO THE GLORY OF GOD." TEACH me, my God and King, Not rudely, as a beast, A man that looks on glass, Or if he pleaseth, through it pass, All may of thee partake : Nothing can be so mean, Which with his tincture For thy sake' Will not grow bright and clean. |