"In whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory."-(1 PET i. 8.) MY CCCLXXVII Y God, the Spring of all my joys, The Glory of my brightest days, In darkest shades if He appear, He is my soul's sweet Morning-star, And He my rising Sun. The opening heavens around me shine While Jesus shows, His heart is mine, My soul would leave this heavy clay Fearless of hell and ghastly death, CCCLXXVIII AR from the world, O Lord, I flee, From scenes where Satan wages still The calm retreat, the silent shade, There, if Thy Spirit touch the soul, O with what peace, and joy, and love, There, like the nightingale, she pours Nor asks a witness of her song, Author and Guardian of my life; What thanks I owe Thee, and what love, Shall echo through the realms above When time shall be no more! William Cowper. 1779 CCCLXXIX HERE'S not a bird, with lonely nest Nor meaner thing, which does not share, There's not a being now accurst, Each barren crag, each desert rude, And Thou dost bless the wanderer there, In busy mart and crowded street, Thou, Lord, art near, our souls to bless And every moment still doth bring Through all creation let Thy Name And we, where'er our lot is cast, CCCLXXX HE child leans on its parent's breast, THE Leaves there its cares, and is at rest; The bird sits singing by his nest, And tells aloud His trust in God, and so is blest 'Neath every cloud. He has no store, he sows no seed; He sings to shame Men, who forget, in fear of need, A Father's Name. The heart that trusts forever sings, Come good or ill, Whate'er to-day, to-morrow brings, It is His will! Isaac Williams. [1842] CCCLXXXI HY comes this fragrance on the summer breeze, WHY The blended tribute of ten thousand flowers, To me, a frequent wanderer 'mid the trees That form these gay, though solitary bowers! Why bursts such melody from tree and bush, Awhile to listen, but would take its part? In starry heavens, at the midnight hour, In ever-varying hues at morning's dawn, In the fair bow athwart the falling shower, In forest, river, lake, rock, hill, and lawn, One truth is written: all conspire to prove, What grace of old revealed, that God is Love! Nor less this pulse of health, far glancing eye, And heart so moved with beauty, perfume, song, This spirit, soaring through a gorgeous sky, Or diving ocean's coral caves among, Fleeter than darting fish or startled dove; All, all declare the same, that God is Love! Is it a fallen world on which I gaze? Am I as deeply fallen as the rest, It is as if an unseen spirit strove To grave upon my heart, that God is Love! Yet wouldst thou see, my soul, this truth displayed In characters which wondering angels read, And read, adoring; go, imploring aid To gaze with faith, behold the Saviour bleed! Thy God, in human form! O, what can prove, If this suffice thee not, that God is Love? Cling to His cross; and let thy ceaseless prayer Be, that thy grasp may fail not! and, erelong, Thou shalt ascend to that fair Temple, where In strains ecstatic an innumerous throng Of saints and seraphs, round the Throne above, Proclaim forevermore, that God is Love! Thomas Davis. 1859 |