Thy will is the treasure I seek, My spirit and faculties fail; Oh finish what love has begun! Destroy what is sinful and frail, And dwell in the soul thou hast won! Dear theme of my wonder and praise, I cry, who is worthy as Thou! I can only be silent and gaze: "Tis all that is left to me now. Oh glory in which I am lost, Too deep for the plummet of thought; On an ocean of Deity toss'd, I am swallow'd, I sink into nought. Yet lost and absorb'd as I seem, I chant to the praise of my king; And, though overwhelm'd by the theme, Am happy whenever I sing. GRATITUDE AND LOVE TO GOD. ALL are indebted much to thee, But I far more than all, From many a deadly snare set free, Overwhelm me, from above, What bonds of gratitude I feel No language can declare; 'Tis more than I can bear: Spirit of Charity, dispense Drive self from every part; Break the chains in which we lie! All selfish souls, whate'er they feign, Have still a slavish lot; He whose bosom glows with Thee, He, and he alone, is free. Oh blessedness, all bliss above, We learn its name, but not its powers, S. C.-9. HAPPY SOLITUDE-UNHAPPY MEN. My heart is easy, and my burden light; I smile, though sad, when Thou art in my sight: The more my woes in secret I deplore, I taste thy goodness and I love the more. There, while a solemn stillness reigns around, Thy creatures wrong thee, O thou sovereign Good! Frail beauty and false honour are adored; LIVING WATER. THE fountain in its source No drought of summer fears; But shallow cisterns yield A scanty short supply; The morning sees them amply fill❜d, TRUTH AND DIVINE LOVE O LOVE, of REJECTED BY THE WORLD. pure and heavenly birth! Whence comes it, that, your power the same Or heart that makes you welcome here? The world is proud, and cannot bear Then, let the price be what it may, DIVINE JUSTICE AMIABLE. THOU hast no lightnings, O thou just! The heart that values less its ease A subject of its praise. Pleased I could lie, conceal'd and lost, In shades of central night; Not to avoid thy wrath, thou know'st, But lest I grieve thy sight. Smite me, O Thou, whom I provoke! And I will love thee still; The well-deserved and righteous stroke Shall please me, though it kill. Am I not worthy to sustain The worst thou canst devise? Far from afflicting, Thou art kind; Alas! Thou sparest me yet again; Too gentle to endure my pain, Thou sooth'st me with thy love. |