A A LITTLE BIRD I AM. Composed in Prison. LITTLE bird I am, Shut from the fields of air; And in my cage I fit and fing To Him who placed me there; Well pleased a prisoner to be, Because, my God, it pleases Thee. Naught have I else to do; I fing the whole day long; And He whom moft I love to please Doth listen to my song; He caught and bound my wandering wing, But ftill He bends to hear me fing. Thou haft an ear to hear, A heart to love and bless ; And though my notes were e'er so rude, Thou wouldst not hear the less; Because Thou knoweft, as they fall, That love, sweet love, inspires them all. My cage confines me round; Abroad I cannot fly; But though my wing is closely bound, My heart's at liberty. My prison walls cannot control The flight, the freedom, of the soul. O, it is good to soar These bolts and bars above, To Him whose purpose I adore, Whose providence I love; And in Thy mighty will to find The joy, the freedom, of the mind. Madame Guyon. 1648-1717. PRISONS DO NOT EXCLUDE GOD. In Prison. TRONG are all the walls around me, STR That hold me all the day; But they who thus have bound me My very dungeon walls are dear, They know, who thus oppress me, 'Tis hard to be alone; But know not One can bless me Thy love, O God! reftores me 'Tis that which makes my treasure, 'Tis that which brings my gain; Converting woe to pleasure, And reaping joy from pain. O, 't is enough, whate'er befall, Madame Guyon. 1648-1717. LOVE CONSTITUTES MY CRIME. In Prison. OVE conftitutes my crime; For this they keep me here, Imprisoned thus so long a time And yet I am, as when I came, How can I better grow! How from my own heart fly! Those who imprison me fhould know Yea, tread and crufh it with disdain, And am I then to blame? And having once inspired the flame, For this they smite me and reprove, What power shall dim its ray, Madame Guyon. 1648-1717. L THE ACQUIESCENCE OF PURE LOVE. In Prison. OVE! if thy destined sacrifice am I, Come, flay thy victim, and prepare thy fires; Plunged in thy depths of mercy, let me die The death which every soul that lives defires. I watch my hours, and see them fleet away; To me 't is equal, whether love ordain One good the covets, and that good alone, That we should bear the cross is thy command, |