To me no ray was granted,
Although I heard the psalms
The faithful sweetly chanted,
And felt the waving palms.

With grief my heart was aching;
O'erwhelming were my woes,
Till, heaven-born courage taking,
To Thee my cry arose :
"O David's Son, relieve me,
"My bitter anguish quell;
"Thy promised succour give me,
"And this dark night dispel!"

With tears that fast were flowing,
I sought Thee through the crowd,
My heart more tender growing,
Until I wept aloud :

Oh! then my grief diminish'd ;
For then they cried to me,
"Blind man, thy woe is finish'd;
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'Arise, He calleth thee!"

I came with steps that falter'd;
Thy course I felt Thee check;
Then straight my mind was alter'd,
And bow'd my stubborn neck:
Thou saidst, "What art thou seeking?"
"O Lord! that I might see!"
Oh! then I heard Thee speaking;
"Believe, and it shall be."

Our hope, Lord, faileth never,

When Thou Thy word dost plight: My fears then ceased for ever,

And all my soul was light.

Thou gavest me Thy blessing;
From former guilt set free,
Now heavenly joy possessing,
O Lord! I follow Thee!

Frances Elizabeth Cox. 1841. From Frederic de la Motte Fouqué.

CCCXXXIII.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,

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"Come unto Me and rest;

Lay down, thou weary one, lay down "Thy head upon My breast!"

I came to Jesus as I was,

Weary, and worn, and sad ;
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He has made me glad.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,
"Behold! I freely give

"The living water; thirsty one,

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Stoop down, and drink, and live!

I came to Jesus, and I drank

Of that life-giving stream ;

My thirst was quench'd, my soul revived,
And now I live in Him.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,

"I am this dark world's light; "Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, "And all thy day be bright."

I look'd to Jesus, and I found

In Him my Star, my Sun;

And in that light of life I'll walk

Till travelling days are done.

Horatius Bonar. 1856.

A A

CCCXXXIV.

In evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopp'd my wild career :
I saw One hanging on a Tree,
In agonies and blood,
Who fix'd His languid eyes on me,
As near His Cross I stood.

Sure never till my latest breath
Can I forget that look:

It seem'd to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke :
My conscience felt and own'd the guilt,
And plunged me in despair;

I saw my sins His Blood had spilt,

And help'd to nail Him there.

Alas! I knew not what I did!

But now my tears are vain :

Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
For I the Lord have slain !

A second look He gave, which said,
"I freely all forgive;

"This Blood is for thy ransom paid; "I die, that thou may'st live."

Thus, while His death my sin displays

In all its blackest hue,

Such is the mystery of grace,

It seals my pardon too.

With pleasing grief, and mournful joy,

My spirit now is fill'd,

That I should such a life destroy,

Yet live by Him I kill'd.

John Newton. 1779.

II.

THE ANSWER.

"I will arise, and go to my Father.”—(LUKE xv. 18.)

CCCXXXV.

And have I measured half my days,

And half my journey run,

Nor tasted the Redeemer's grace,

Nor yet my work begun ?

The morning of my life is past,
The noon is almost o'er;
The night of death approaches fast,
When I can work no more.

Darkness He makes His secret place,

Thick clouds surround His Throne;
Nor can I yet behold His face,
Or find the God Unknown.

A God that hides Himself He is,
Far off from mortal sight;

An inaccessible Abyss

Of uncreated Light.

Far off He is, yet always near;
He fills both earth and Heaven,
But doth not to my soul appear,
My soul from Eden driven.

O'er earth a banish'd man I rove,
But cannot feel Him nigh:

Where is the pardoning God of Love,
Who stoop'd for me to die?

I sought Him in the secret cell
With unavailing care :

Long did I in the desert dwell,
Nor could I find Him there.

Still every means in vain I try;
I seek Him far and near;
Where'er I come, constrain'd to cry,
"My Saviour is not here."

God is in this, in every place:
Yet oh! how dark and void
To me! 'tis one great wilderness,
This earth without my God!

Empty of Him, who all things fills,
Till He His Light impart,
Till He His glorious Self reveals,
The veil is on my heart.

O Thou, who seest and know'st my grief,
Thyself Unseen, Unknown!

Pity my helpless unbelief,

And take away the stone!

Regard me with a gracious eye;
The long-sought blessing give;
And bid me, at the point to die,
Behold Thy face, and live!

A darker soul did never yet
Thy promised help implore:

O! that I now my Lord might meet,

And never lose Him more!

Charles Wesley. 1749.