Visits thee not some gleam, that flings Its lustre pale o'er death's dark shade? O hear'st thou not the rustling wings Of angels hastening to thine aid? One other hour of mortal pain,- One other trembling, fond, farewell,- Then sleep, in hope to wake again, And with thy God for ever dwell!
For I shall yet praise Him.
WHILE the Angels all are singing, All of glory ever springing
In the grounds of Heaven's high graces Where all virtues have their places, O that my poor soul were near them With a humble heart to hear them!
But ah! wretched sinful creature! How should the corrupted nature Of this wicked heart of mine, Think upon that love divine, That doth tune the angels' voices, Whilst the Host of Heaven rejoices?
Yet while mercy is removing All the sorrows of the loving, How can faith be full of blindness, To despair of mercy's kindness, While the hand of Heaven is giving Comfort from the Ever-living?
No! my soul, be no more sorry! Look unto that life of glory, Which the grace of faith regardeth, And the tears of love rewardeth, Where the soul the comfort getteth, That the angel's music setteth!
There, when thou art well conducted, And by heavenly grace instructed, How the faithful thoughts to fashion Of a ravished lover's passion, Sing with saints to angels nighest, Hallelujah in the highest!
I have seen an end of all perfection; but thy commandment is exceeding broad.
HOW eagerly my heart hath sought And scorned each foolish gain! Each thing I longed for hath been brought And brought to me in vain.
Alas! this heart too well hath learned The bitter in each sweet;
The imperfect excellence hath mourned, The glory incomplete.
Yet, Lord! to glory measureless Thou bidd'st my soul arise, And settest thine own perfectness Before my longing eyes.
Yet, Lord, I hear thy voice command These halting feet of mine
To traverse all the Holy Land, And climb each height divine.
I who have travelled far and found Small cheer upon the road, May trace an endless Holy Ground,— Yes, sweetly walk with God.
What, weep I, Lord, because no more Unto my soul is given,-
I, who may take of thine own store, And dwell in thine own Heaven?
I'll mourn no more that still from me Perfection doth remove,
But seek thy perfect purity, And pray thy perfect love.
Make me to understand the way of thy precepts: so shall I talk of thy wondrous works.
FOUNTAIN of light and living breath, Whose mercies never fail nor fade! Fill me with life that hath no death, Fill me with light that hath no shade: Confound the proud in their pretence, And let thy wings be my defence.
Lord God of gods, before whose throne Stand storms and fire! O what shall we
Return to heaven, that is our own,
When all the world belongs to Thee? We have no offerings to impart
But praises and a wounded heart.
Great God, whose kingdom hath no end, Into whose secrets none can dive, Whose mercy none can apprehend, Whose justice none can feel,—and live! What my dull heart cannot aspire To know, Lord teach me to admire.
I will run the way of thy commandment, when thou shalt enlarge my heart.
INFINITE Power, eternal Lord, How sovereign is thy hand! All nature rose t' obey thy word, And moves at thy command.
With steady course thy shining sun Keeps his appointed way; And all the hours obedient run The circle of the day.
But ah! how wide my spirit flies, And wanders from her God! My soul forgets her heavenly prize, And treads the downward road.
The raging fire and stormy sea Perform thine awful will, And every beast and every tree Thy great designs fulfil:
While my wild passions rage within, Nor thy commands obey;
And flesh and sense, enslaved to sin, Draw my best thoughts away.
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