There fiery seeds of anger lurk, Legality holds out a bribe To purchase life from thee; While unbelief withstands thy grace, How eager are my thoughts to roam Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood, XLIII. PRAYER FOR PATIENCE. LORD, who hast suffer'd all for me, The lighter cross I bear for thee, The storm of loud repining hush, I would in humble silence mourn; Why should the unburnt, though burning bush, Be angry as the crackling thorn? Man should not faint at thy rebuke, Perhaps some golden wedge suppress'd, Ah! were I buffeted all day, Mock'd, crown'd with thorns, and spit upon; I yet should have no right to say, Let me not angrily declare No pain was ever sharp like mine; Nor murmur at the cross I bear, But rather weep, remembering thine. XLIV. SUBMISSION. O LORD, my best desire fulfil, And help me to resign Life, health, and comfort to thy will, Why should I shrink at thy command, Or tremble at the gracious hand No, let me rather freely yield * Joshua vii. 10, 11. Thy favor all my journey through, "Tis better still to want. Wisdom and mercy guide my way, A poor blind creature of a day, But ah! my inward spirit cries, Else the next cloud that veils the skies, XLV. THE HAPPY CHANGE. How blest thy creature is, O God, Through all the storms that veil the skies, Struck by that light, the human heart, A barren soil no more, Sends the sweet smell of grace abroad The soul a dreary province once And owns a heavenly reign. *Isaiah xxxv. 7. The glorious orb, whose golden beams Since first, obedient to thy word, Has cheer'd the nations with the joys His orient rays impart; But Jesus, 'tis thy light alone Can shine upon the heart. XLVI. RETIREMENT. FAR from the world, O Lord, I flee, The calm retreat, the silent shade, There, if the Spirit touch the soul, Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love, There like the nightingale she pours Her solitary lays; Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise. Author and Guardian of my life, What thanks I owe thee, and what love, A boundless, endless store, Shall echo through the realms above XLVII. THE HIDDEN LIFE. To tell the Saviour all my wants, Nor less to praise him when he grants My laboring spirit vainly seeks With how much tenderness he speaks, And helps me to reply. Nor were it wise, nor should I choose, Like precious wines their tastes they lose, But this with boldness I proclaim, Nor care if thousands hear, Sweet is the ointment of his name, Not life is half so dear. And can you frown, my former friends, Who knew what once I was; And blame the song that thus commends The Man who bore the cross? Trust me, I draw the likeness true, And not as fancy paints; Such honor may he give to you, For such have all his saints. |