Self-confiding wretch, I thought
I could serve thee as I ought,
Win thee, and deserve to feel
All the Love thou canst reveal!
Trusting self, a bruised reed,
Is to be deceived indeed.
Save me from this harm and loss,
Lest my gold turn all to dross!
Self is earthly-Faith alone
Makes an unseen world our own;
Faith relinquish'd, how we roam,
Feel our way, and leave our home!
Spurious gems our hopes entice,
While we scorn the pearl of price;
And, preferring servants' pay,
Cast the children's bread away.
THE ACQUIESCENCE OF PURE LOVE.
LOVE! if thy destined sacrifice am I,
Come slay thy victim, and prepare thy fires;
Plunged in thy depths of mercy, let me die
The death which every soul that lives desires!
I watch my hours, and see them fleet away;
The time is long that I have languish'd here;
Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey,
With no reluctance, cheerful and sincere.
To me 'tis equal, whether Love ordain
My life or death, appoint me pain or ease;
My soul perceives no real ill in pain;
In ease or health no real good she sees.
One Good she covets, and that Good alone;
To choose thy will, from selfish bias free;
And to prefer a cottage to a throne,
And grief to comfort, if it pleases thee.
That we should bear the cross is thy command,
Die to the world, and live to self no more;
Suffer, unmoved, beneath the rudest hand,
As pleased when shipwreck'd as when safe on
shore.
BLEST! who, far from all mankind,
This world's shadows left behind,
Hears from Heaven a gentle strain
Whispering Love, and loves again.
Blest! who, free from self-esteem,
Dives into the great Supreme,
All desire beside discards,
Joys inferior none regards.
Blest! who in thy bosom seeks
Rest that nothing earthly breaks,
Dead to self and worldly things,
Lost in thee, thou King of kings!
Ye that know my secret fire,
Softly speak and soon retire;
Favour my divine repose,
Spare the sleep a God bestows.
OH loved! but not enough-though dearer far Than self and its most loved enjoyments are; None duly loves thee, but who, nobly free From sensual objects, finds his all in Thee.
Glory of God! thou stranger here below,
Whom man nor knows, nor feels a wish to know;
Our faith and reason are both shock'd to find
Man in the post of honour-Thee behind.
Reason exclaims-" Let every creature fall,
Ashamed, abased, before the Lord of all;"
And faith, o'erwhelm'd with such a dazzling blaze,
Feebly describes the beauty she surveys.
Yet man, dim-sighted man, and rash as blind,
Deaf to the dictates of his better mind,
In frantic competition dares the skies,
And claims precedence of the only wise.
Oh lost in vanity, till once self-known!
Nothing is great, or good, but God alone;
When thou shalt stand before His awful face,
Then, at the last, thy pride shall know His place.
Glorious, Almighty, First, and without end!
When wilt thou melt the mountains and descend?
When wilt thou shoot abroad thy conquering rays,
And teach these atoms thou hast made, thy praise?
Thy Glory is the sweetest heaven I feel;
And, if I seek it with too fierce a zeal,
Thy Love, triumphant o'er a selfish will,
Taught me the passion, and inspires it still.
My reason, all my faculties, unite,
To make thy Glory their supreme delight;
Forbid it, fountain of my brightest days,
That I should rob thee, and usurp thy praise!
My soul! rest happy in thy low estate,
Nor hope, nor wish, to be esteem'd or great;
To take the impression of a will divine,
Be that thy glory, and those riches thine.
Confess Him righteous in his just decrees,
Love what he loves, and let his pleasure please;
Die daily; from the touch of sin recede;
Then thou hast crown'd him, and he reigns indeed.
SELF-LOVE AND TRUTH INCOMPATIBLE.
FROM thorny wilds a monster came, That fill'd my soul with fear and shame; The birds, forgetful of their mirth, Droop'd at the sight, and fell to earth; When thus a sage address'd mine ear, Himself unconscious of a fear.
"Whence all this terror and surprise, Distracted looks, and streaming eyes? Far from the world and its affairs, The joy it boasts, the pain it shares, Surrender, without guile or art, To God, an undivided heart; The savage form, so fear'd before, Shall scare your trembling soul no more;
For loathsome as the sight may be,
"Tis but the Love of self you see.
Fix all your love on God alone,
Chuse but His will, and hate your own,
No fear shall in your path be found,
The dreary waste shall bloom around,
And you through all your happy days,
Shall bless his name, and sing his praise."
Oh lovely solitude, how sweet
The silence of this calm retreat!
Here Truth, the fair whom I pursue,
Gives all her beauty to my view;
The simple, unadorn'd display
Charms every pain and fear away.
O Truth, whom millions proudly slight;
O Truth, my treasure and delight;
Accept this tribute to thy name,
And this poor heart from which it came!
THE LOVE OF GOD, THE END OF LIFE.
SINCE life in sorrow must be spent,
So be it-I am well content,
And meekly wait my last remove,
Seeking only growth in love.
No bliss I seek, but to fulfil
In life, in death, thy lovely will;
No succours in my woes I want,
Save what Thou art pleased to grant.
Our days are number'd, let us spare
Our anxious hearts a needless care:
"Tis thine to number out our days;
Ours to give them to thy praise.
Love is our only business here,
Love, simple, constant, and sincere;
O blessed days, thy servants see!
Spent, O Lord! in pleasing Thee.
LOVE FAITHFUL IN THE ABSENCE OF THE BELOVED.
In vain ye woo me to your harmless joys,
Ye pleasant bowers, remote from strife and noise;
Your shades, the witnesses of many a vow
Breathed forth in happier days, are irksome now;
Denied that smile 'twas once my heaven to see,
Such scenes, such pleasures, are all past with me.
In vain He leaves me, I shall love him still;
And though I mourn, not murmur at his will;
I have no cause-an object all divine
Might well grow weary of a soul like mine;
Yet pity me, great God! forlorn, alone,
Heartless and hopeless, Life and Love all gone.
JEALOUS, and with love o'erflowing, God demands a fervent heart; Grace and bounty still bestowing, Calls us to a grateful part.
Oh, then, with supreme affection
His paternal Will regard! If it cost us some dejection, Every sigh has its reward.
Perfect Love has power to soften
Cares that might our peace destroy; Nay, does more-transforms them often, Changing sorrow into joy.
Sovereign Love appoints the measure
And the number of our pains;
And is pleased when we find pleasure
In the trials He ordains.
PEACE has unveil'd her smiling face,
And woos thy soul to her embrace,
Enjoy'd with ease, if thou refrain
From earthly love, else sought in vain;
She dwells with all who Truth prefer,
But seeks not them who seek not her.
Yield to the Lord, with simple heart,
All that thou hast, and all thou art;
Renounce all strength but strength divine,
And peace shall be for ever thine:
Behold the path which I have trod,
My path, till I go home to God.
I PLACE an offering at thy shrine,
From taint and blemish clear,
Simple and pure in its design,
Of all that I hold dear.
I yield thee back thy gifts again,
Thy gifts which most I prize;
Desirous only to retain
The notice of thine eyes.
But if, by thine adored decree,
That blessing be denied ;
Resign'd and unreluctant, see
My every wish subside.
Thy will in all things I approve,
Exalted or cast down!
Thy will in every state I love,
And even in thy frown.
To lay the soul that loves him low,
Becomes the Only-wise:
To hide, beneath a veil of woe,
The children of the skies.
Man, though a worm, would yet be great;
Though feeble, would seem strong;
Assumes an independent state,
By sacrilege and wrong.
Strange the reverse, which, once abased,
The haughty creature proves! He feels his soul a barren waste,
Nor dares affirm he loves.
Scorn'd by the thoughtless and the vain,
To God he presses near;
Superior to the world's disdain,
And happy in its sneer.
Oh welcome, in his heart he says,
Humility and shame!
Farewell the wish for human praise,
The music of a name!
But will not scandal mar the good
That I might else perform?
And can God work it, if he would,
By so despised a worm?
Ah, vainly anxious!-leave the Lord
To rule thee, and dispose ;
Sweet is the mandate of his word,
And gracious all He does.
He draws from human littleness
His grandeur and renown;
And generous hearts with joy confess
The triumph all his own.
Down then with self-exalting thoughts;
Thy faith and hope employ,
To welcome all that he allots,
And suffer shame with joy.
No longer, then, thou wilt encroach
On his eternal right;
And He shall smile at thy approach,
And make thee his delight.
SECRETS OF DIVINE LOVE ARE TO BE KEPT.
SUN! stay thy course, this moment stay-
Suspend the o'erflowing tide of day,
Divulge not such a love as mine,
Ah! hide the mystery divine;
Lest man, who deems my glory shame,
Should learn the secret of my flame.
O night! propitious to my views,
Thy sable awning wide diffuse:
Conceal alike my joy and pain,
Nor draw thy curtain back again,
Though morning, by the tears she shows,
Seems to participate my woes.
Ye stars! whose faint and feeble fires
Express my languishing desires,
Whose slender beams pervade the skies
As silent as my secret sighs,
Those emanations of a soul,
That darts her fires beyond the pole;
Your rays, that scarce assist the sight,
That pierce, but not displace the night,
That shine indeed, but nothing show
Of all those various scenes below,
Bring no disturbance, rather prove
Incentives to a sacred love,
Thou moon! whose never-failing course
Bespeaks a providential force,
Go, tell the tidings of my flame
To him who calls the stars by name,
Whose absence kills, whose presence cheers,
Who blots or brightens all my years.
While, in the blue abyss of space,
Thine orb performs its rapid race,
Still whisper in his listening ears
The language of my sighs and tears;
Tell him, I seek him, far below,
Lost in a wilderness of woe.
Ye thought-composing, silent hours,
Diffusing peace o'er all my powers,
Friends of the pensive! who conceal
In darkest shades the flames I feel;
To you I trust, and safely may,
The love that wastes my strength away.
In sylvan scenes and caverns rude,
I taste the sweets of solitude;
Retired indeed, but not alone,
I share them with a Spouse unknown,
Who hides me here, from envious eyes,
From all intrusion and surprise.
Imbowering shades, and dens profound!
Where echo rolls the voice around;
Mountains! whose elevated heads,
A moist and misty veil o'erspreads;
Disclose a solitary bride
To him I love to none beside.
Ye rills! that, murmuring all the way,
Among the polish'd pebbles stray,
Creep silently along the ground,
Lest, drawn by that harmonious sound,
Some wanderer, whom I would not meet,
Should stumble on my loved retreat.
Enamel'd meads, and hillocks green,
And streams that water all the scene!
Ye torrents, loud in distant ears!
Ye fountains! that receive my tears!
Ah! still conceal, with caution due,
A charge I trust with none but you.
If, when my pain and grief increase,
I seem to enjoy the sweetest peace,
It is because I find so fair
The charming object of my care,
That I can sport and pleasure make
Of torment suffer'd for his sake.
Ye meads and groves, unconscious things!
Ye know not whence my pleasure springs;
Ye know not, and ye cannot know,
The source from which my sorrows flow:
The dear sole Cause of all I feel,—
He knows, and understands them well.
Ye deserts! where the wild beasts rove,
Scenes sacred to my hours of love;
Ye forests! in whose shades I stray,
Benighted under burning day;
Ah! whisper not how blest am I,
Nor while I live, nor when I die.
Ye lambs! who sport beneath these shades, And bound along the mossy glades,
Be taught a salutary fear,
And cease to bleat when I am near:
The wolf may hear your harmless cry,
Whom ye should dread as much as I.
How calm, amid these scenes, my mind!
How perfect is the peace I find!
Oh hush, be still, my every part,
My tongue, my pulse, my beating heart!
That Love, aspiring to its cause,
May suffer not a moment's pause.
Ye swift-finn'd nations, that abide
In seas as fathomless as wide;
And unsuspicious of a snare,
Pursue at large your pleasures there:
Poor sportive fools! how soon does man
Your heedless ignorance trepan!
Away ! dive deep into the brine,
Where never yet sunk plummet-line;
Trust me, the vast leviathan
Is merciful, compared with man;
Avoid his arts, forsake the beach,
And never play within his reach!
My soul her bondage ill endures;
I pant for liberty like yours;
I long for that immense profound,
That knows no bottom, and no bound;
Lost in infinity, to prove
The incomprehensible of Love.
Ye birds! that lessen as ye fly,
And vanish in the distant sky;
To whom yon airy waste belongs,
Resounding with your cheerful songs;
Haste to escape from human sight!
Fear less the vulture and the kite.
How blest, and how secure am I,
When quitting earth, I soar on high;
When lost, like you I disappear,
And float in a sublimer sphere!
Whence, falling within human view,
I am ensnared, and caught like you.
Omniscient God, whose notice deigns
To try the heart and search the reins,
Compassionate the numerous woes,
I dare not, even to thee, disclose;
Oh save me from the cruel hands
Of men, who fear not thy commands!
Love, all-subduing and divine,
Care for a creature truly thine;
Reign in a heart, disposed to own
No sovereign but thyself alone;
Cherish a bride who cannot rove,
Nor quit Thee for a meaner love!
THE VICISSITUDES EXPERIENCED
I SUFFER fruitless anguish day by day,
Each moment, as it passes, marks my pain;
Scarce knowing whither, doubtfully I stray,
And see no end of all that I sustain.
The more I strive the more I am withstood;
Anxiety increasing every hour,
My spirit finds no rest, performs no good,
And nought remains of all my former power.
My peace of heart is fled, I know not where; My happy hours, like shadows, pass'd away; Their sweet remembrance doubles all my care, Night darker seems, succeeding such a day. Dear faded joys, and impotent regret,
What profit is there in incessant tears! Oh Thou, whom once beheld, we ne'er forget, Reveal thy Love, and banish all my fears! Alas! He flies me-treats me as his foe, Views not my sorrows, hears not when I plead; Woe such as mine, despised, neglected woe, Unless it shortens life, is vain indeed. Pierced with a thousand wounds, I yet survive; My pangs are keen, but no complaint transpires; And while in terrors of thy wrath I live,
Hell seems to lose its less tremendous fires. Has hell a pain I would not gladly bear,
So thy severe displeasure might subside? Hopeless of ease, I seem already there,
My life extinguish'd, and yet death denied. Is this the joy so promised ?—this the love,
The unchanging love, so sworn in better days! Ah! dangerous glories! shown me, but to prove How lovely Thou, and I how rash to gaze. Why did I see them? had I still remain'd Untaught, still ignorant how fair thou art, My humbler wishes I had soon obtain'd,
Nor known the torments of a doubting heart.
Deprived of all, yet feeling no desires,
Whence then, I ery, the pangs that I sustain ? Dubious and uninform'd, my soul inquires,
Ought she to cherish, or shake off her pain?
Suffering, I suffer not; sincerely love,
Yet feel no touch of that enlivening flame; As chance inclines me, unconcern'd I move, All times, and all events, to me the same.
I search my heart, and not a wish is there, But burns with zeal that hated self may fall; Such is the sad disquietude I share,
A sea of doubts, and self the source of all.
I ask not life, nor do I wish to die;
And if thine hand accomplish not my cure,
I would not purchase with a single sigh,
A free discharge from all that I endure.
I groan in chains, yet want not a release;
Am sick, and know not the distemper'd part;
Am just as void of purpose as of peace;
Have neither plan, nor fear, nor hope, nor heart.
My claim to life, though sought with earnest care,
No light within me or without me shows;
Once I had faith, but now in self-despair
Find my chief cordial and my best repose.
My soul is a forgotten thing; she sinks,
Sinks and is lost without a wish to rise;
Feels an indifference she abhors, and thinks
Her name erased for ever from the skies.
Language affords not my distress a name,—
Yet is it real, and no sickly dream;
"Tis Love inflicts it; though to feel that flame
Is all I know of happiness supreme.
When Love departs, a chaos wide and vast,
And dark as hell is open'd in the soul;
When Love returns, the gloomy scene is past,
No tempests shake her, and no fears control.
Then tell me why these ages of delay?
Oh Love, all excellent, once more appear, Disperse the shades, and snatch me into day, From this abyss of night, these floods of fear! No-Love is angry, will not now endure
A sigh of mine, or suffer a complaint; He smites me, wounds me, and withholds the cure; Exhausts my powers, and leaves me sick and faint.
He wounds, and hides the hand that gave the blow; He flies, he reappears, and wounds again ;Was ever heart that loved thee treated so?
Yet I adore thee, though it seem in vain.
And wilt thou leave me, whom, when lost and blind,
Thou didst distinguish and vouchsafe to chuse,
Before thy laws were written in my mind,
While yet the world had all my thoughts and
views?
Now leave me when, enamour'd of thy laws,
I make thy glory my supreme delight;
Now blot me from thy register, and cause
A faithful soul to perish from thy sight?
What can have caused the change which I deplore?
Is it to prove me, if my heart be true?
Permit me then, while prostrate I adore,
To draw, and place its picture in thy view.
"Tis thine without reserve, most simply thine;
So given to thee, that it is not my own;
A willing captive of thy grace divine;
And loves, and seeks thee, for Thyself alone.
Pain cannot move it, danger cannot scare;
Pleasure and wealth, in its esteem, are dust;
It loves thee, even when least inclined to spare
Its tenderest feelings, and avows thee just.
"Tis all thine own; my spirit is so too,
An undivided offering at thy shrine;
It seeks thy glory with no double view,
Thy glory, with no secret bent to mine.
Love, holy Love! and art thou not severe,
To slight me, thus devoted and thus fix'd?
Mine is an everlasting ardour, clear
From all self-bias, generous and unmix'd.
But I am silent, seeing what I see,-
And fear, with cause, that I am self-deceived; Not even my faith is from suspicion free,
And that I love, seems not to be believed. Live Thou, and reign for ever, glorious Lord! My last, least offering, I present thee now ;Renounce me, leave me, and be still adored! Slay me, my God, and I applaud the blow.
WATCHING UNTO GOD IN THE NIGHT SEASON.
SLEEP at last has fled these eyes, Nor do I regret his flight,
More alert my spirits rise,
And my heart is free and light.
Nature silent all around,
Not a single witness near; God as soon as sought is found, And the flame of love burns clear. Interruption, all day long,
Checks the current of my joys; Creatures press me with a throng, And perplex me with their noise. Undisturb'd I muse all night,
On the first Eternal Fair; Nothing there obstructs delight, Love is renovated there.
Life, with its perpetual stir,
Proves a foe to Love and me; Fresh entanglements occur,
Comes the night, and sets me free.
Never more, sweet sleep, suspend
My enjoyments, always new:
Leave me to possess my friend;
Other eyes and hearts subdue.
Hush the world, that I may wake
To the taste of pure delights;
Oh the pleasures Î partake,-
God the partner of my nights!
David, for the selfsame cause,
Night preferr'd to busy day: Hearts whom heavenly beauty draws Wish the glaring sun away.
Sleep, self-lovers, is for you ;
Souls that love celestial know, Fairer scenes by night can view Than the sun could ever show.
SEASON of my purest pleasure,
Sealer of observing eyes!
When, in larger, freer measure,
I can commune with the skies;
While, beneath thy shade extended,
Weary man forgets his woes;
I, my daily trouble ended,
Find, in watching, my repose.
Silence all around prevailing,
Nature hush'd in slumber sweet, No rude noise mine ears assailing, Now my God and I can meet : Universal nature slumbers,
And my soul partakes the calm, Breathes her ardour out in numbers, Plaintive song or lofty psalm.
Now my passion, pure and holy,
Shines and burns without restraint, Which the day's fatigue and folly Cause to languish, dim and faint: Charming hours of relaxation ! How I dread the ascending sun! Surely idle conversation
Is an evil, match'd by none.
|