How happy is the man
Who sees his misery,
Who ever feels his nature's chain,
Nor murmurs to be free!
Who waits in patient hope,
And, languishing for home,
With cheerful confidence looks up,
And says, "My Lord will come."
He neither hopes nor fears
Evil or good below;
But sighs for God, and lets his tears
In secret silence flow.
Stript of his joy, he grieves
Quiet, and meek, and still; The matter to his Father leaves, And bids Him work His will.
In calm, submissive grief
He suffers his distress;
He cannot snatch undue relief,
Or wish his misery less :
"My Father's will is good,"
(The patient mourner cries,)
"He never gives a stone for food,
Or slights His children's sighs."
O that I thus resign'd
Might bear my nature's load!
O that in me were such a mind
To leave the whole to God!
With Him to trust my cause,
And quietly endure
Till He remove the hallow'd cross,
And all my sickness cure.
I would, (but Thou canst tell,)
I would be humble, Lord,
My burden every moment feel,
And tremble at Thy word:
I would be stript of all,
And calmly wait Thy stay;
Poor at Thy feet, and helpless fall,
And weep my life away.
I would be truly still,*
Nor set a time to Thee,
But act according to Thy will,
And speak, and think, and be.
I would with Thee be one;
And till the grace is given,
Incessant pray, Thy will be done
In earth, as 'tis in heaven.
"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?"
I O MY false, deceitful heart,
Desperately false thou art,
Foul as hell, when fair in show;
Who can all the mazes know?
*The quiet irony in this verse and in the title is illustrated by a reference to "The Journal of John Nelson," pp. 33—41, 66, 67. (Ed. 1806.)
He the stars may reckon o'er,
Tell the sands that bound the shore,
Count the drops that make the sea,
Comprehend eternity.
2 Foolish heart, unjust and vain !
Pride was never made for man ;
Glory dost thou still pursue;
Glory all to God is due.
What hast thou whereof to boast?
God alone is good and just;
Only His be all the praise;
What we are, we are by grace.
3 Wretched heart, with woes opprest!
Ever roving after rest :
Wilt thou still pretend to own
Bliss is found in God alone?
While thy foolish wishes go
After empty joys below,
False imaginary ease,
Dreams of creature happiness.
4 Stony heart, which nought can move!
Thou canst neither fear nor love :
Threats and promises are vain,
Give thee neither joy nor pain:
All alike, it seems, to thee
Perfect bliss or misery,
Joys or woes unspeakable,
Life or death, and heaven or hell.
5 Wavering, frail, inconstant heart,
O, how blind and weak thou art!
Weak as helpless infancy,
Blind thy helplessness to see,
To thine own corruptions blind,
More inconstant than the wind,
Wavering as a shaken reed,
Cold, and dark, and doubly dead.
6 Stubborn heart, ungrateful, hard,
With a red-hot iron sear'd!
Carnal heart, immersed in sin,
All a cage of birds unclean!
Downward all thy motions tend;
Lust, the beast, or pride, the fiend,
Show thee, since thy total fall,
Earthly, sensual, devilish all.
7 Faithless heart! be this thy grief,
Groan beneath thine unbelief:
Unbelief, the damning sin,
Keeps thee all unclean, unclean,
Aggravates thy heavy load,
Will not let thee come to God,
Suffers not His grace to move,
Robs Him of His truth and love.
8 Faithless heart! to Jesus bow,
Suffer Him to save thee now.
No- thou wilt not now believe,
Wilt not take what God would give :
Thou refusest to be free,
All the hindrance is in thee;
Through thy own rebellious will,
Bound thou art and faithless still.
9 O my Lord, what must I do?
Only Thou the way canst show,
Thou canst save me in this hour,
I have neither will nor power:
God if over all Thou art,
Greater than the sinful heart,
Let it now on me be shown,
Take away the heart of stone.
10 Take away my darling sin,
Make me willing to be clean;
Make me willing to receive
What Thy goodness waits to give;
Force me, Lord, with all to part;
Tear these idols from my heart;
All Thy power on me be shown,
Take away the heart of stone.
11 Jesu, mighty to renew,
Work in me to will and do ;
;
Turn my nature's rapid tide,
Stem the torrent of my pride,
Stop the whirlwind of my will,
Speak, and bid the sun stand still;
Now Thy love almighty show,
Make even me a creature new.
12 Arm of God, Thy strength put on;
Bow the heavens, and come down,
All mine unbelief o'erthrow,
Lay the' aspiring mountain low;
Conquer Thy worst foe in me,
Get Thyself the victory;
Save the vilest of the race,
Force me to be saved by grace.
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