COMFORT.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me: thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.—Psalm xxiii. 4.
This is my comfort in my affliction: for thy word hath quickened me.—Psalm cxix. 50.
Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.—Isaiah, xl. 1.
I, even I, am He that comforteth you: who art thou, that thou shouldest be afraid of a man that shall die, and of the Son of Man which shall be made as grass; and forgettest the Lord thy Maker.—Isaiah, li. 12, 13.
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn.—Isaiah, lxi. 1, 2.
Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort;
Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.—II. Corinthians, i. 3, 4.
There is a haven yet to rest my soul on,
In midst of all unhappiness, which I look on
With the same comfort as a distressed seaman
Afar off views the coast he would enjoy,
When yet the seas do toss his reeling barque,
’Twixt hope and danger.
Shirley.
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drowned in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said,
’Cause my speech is now decayed,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the judgment is revealed,
And that open which was sealed,
When to thee I have appealed,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
Robert Herrick.
The voice which I did more esteem
Than music in her sweetest key;
Those eyes which unto me did seem
More comfortable than the day!
Those now by me, as they have been,
Shall never more be heard or seen;
But what I once enjoyed in them,
Shall seem hereafter as a dream.
All earthly comforts vanish thus;
So little hold of them have we,
That we from them, or they from us,
May in a moment ravished be.
Yet we are neither just nor wise,
If present mercies we despise;
Or mind not how there may be made
A thankful use of what we had.
Wither.
Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismay’d,
The reverend champion stood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul:
Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last, faltering accents whisper’d praise.
Goldsmith.
Comfort, ye ministers of grace,
Comfort my people, saith your God!
Ye soon shall see his smiling face,
His golden sceptre, not his rod;
And own, when now the cloud’s removed,
He only chasten’d whom he loved.
Who sow in tears, in joy shall reap,
The Lord shall comfort all that mourn,
Who now go on their way and weep,
With joy they doubtless shall return,
And bring their sheaves with vast increase,
And have their fruit to holiness.
Wesley.
They sank amid the wilderness,
The weary and forsaken;
She gave the boy one faint caress,
And prayed it might not waken.
Far, far away the desert spread;
Ah! love is fain to cherish
The vainest hopes, but now she said,
“Let me not see him perish.”
Then spoke the Lord, and at his word
Sprang forth a little fountain,
Pure, cold as those whose crystal hoard
Is in some pine-clad mountain.
O blessed God! thus doth thy power,
When, worn and broken-hearted,
We sink beneath some evil hour,
And deem all hope departed.
Then doth the fountain of thy grace
Rise up within the spirit,
And we are strengthened for that race,
Whose prize we shall inherit.
When least we hope, our prayer is heard,
The judgment is averted,
And comes the comfort of thy word,
When most we seem deserted.
Miss Landon.
On wings of everlasting love
The Comforter is come;
All terrors at his voice disperse,
And endless pleasures bloom.
Doddridge.