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Come, Lord ! when Grace has made
Whether I die or live;
And this Thy grace must give.
That I may long obey;
That shall have the same pay ?
Christ leads me through no darker rooms
Than He went through before; He that unto God's kingdom comes
Must enter by this door. Come, Lord! when
has made me meet Thy blessed face to see ; For if Thy work on earth be sweet,
What must Thy glory be?
Then shall I end my sad complaints,
And weary, sinful days,
That sing Jehovah's praise.
The eye of faith is dim;
Days of Joy ensue sad Nights of
The sweet fruition of his hopeful gain,
to bliss lies not on beds of down, And he that had no cross deserves no crown. There's but one heaven, one place of perfect ease, In man it lies, to take it where he please, Above, or here elow : and few men do Enjoy the one, and taste the other too: Sweating, and constant labour wins the goal Of rest; afflictions clarify the soul, And like hard masters, give more hard directions, Tutoring the nonage of uncurb’d affections. Wisdom, the antidote of sad despair, Makes sharp afflictions seem not as they are, Through patient sufferance; and doth apprehend, Not as they seeming are, but as they end. To bear affliction with a bended brow, Or stubborn heart, is but to disallow The speedy means to health ; salve heals no sore, If misapplied, but makes the grief the more. Who sends affliction, sends an end, and he Best knows what's best for him, what's best for
'Tis not for me to carve me where I like; Him pleases when he list to stroke or strike.
I'll neither wish nor yet avoid temptation,
Howe'er, let me not boast, nor yet repine ;
Death of the Righteous.
To paint the hour that wafts a soul to heaven!
Each pang subdued, his longing soul respires
Devotion Breathes Aloud from every
prayer, and thanks to Him, the Eternal
OneTo Him, that, with bright inspiration, touched The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song, And warmed the soul with new vitality. A stirring energy through Nature breathed !The voice of adoration from her broke, Swelling aloud in every breeze, and heard Long in the sullen waterfall,—what time Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth Its bloom or blighting,—when the Summer smiled, Or Winter o'er the year's sepulchre mourned, The Deity was there!—a nameless spirit
Moved in the hearts of men to do Him homage;
altars, And gray moss mantling hung. Above was heard The melody of winds, breathed out as the green
trees Bowed to their quivering touch in living beauty, And birds sang forth their cheerful hymns. Below, Struggled and gushed amongst the tangled roots, That choked its weedy fountain—and dark rocks, Worn smooth by the constant current, even there The listless wave, that stole with mellow voice, Where weeds grew rank upon the rushy brink, And to the wandering wind the green sedge bent, Sang a sweet song of fixed tranquillity. Men felt the heavenly influence; and it stole Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace; And even the air they breathed,
-the light they
Became religion ;--for the ethereal spirit,