A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations / Consisting of Choice Passages from the Sacred Poetry of All Ages and Countries, Classified and Arranged, for Facility of Reference, Under Subject Headings; Illustrated by Striking Passages from Scripture, and Forming Altogether a Complete Book of Devotional Poetry.

by Unknown

SAVIOUR.

I, even I, am the Lord; and beside me there is no Saviour.—Isaiah, xliii. 11.

Thou shalt know that I the Lord am thy Saviour and thy Redeemer, the mighty One of Jacob.—Isaiah, lx. 16.

And the angel said unto them, fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.—Luke, ii. 10, 11, 12.

For our conversation is in heaven; from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.—Philippians, iii. 20.

We trust in the living God, who is the Saviour of all men, specially of those that believe.—I. Timothy, iv. 10.

And thou, my soul, inspired with holy flame,

View and review with most regardful eye

That holy cross whence thy salvation came,

On which thy Saviour and thy sin did die!

For in that sacred object is much pleasure,

And in that Saviour is my life, my treasure.

Sir Walter Raleigh.

O unexampled Love!

Love nowhere to be found less than Divine!

Hail son of God, Saviour of men, Thy name

Shall be the copious matter of my song

Henceforth, and never shall my harp Thy praise

Forget, nor from Thy Father’s praise disjoin.

Milton.

O may I pant for Thee in each desire!

And with strong Faith foment the holy fire!

Stretch out my soul in Hope, and grasp the prize,

Which in Eternity’s deep bosom lies!

At the great day of recompense behold,

Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold!

Then wafted upward to the blissful seat,

From age to age my graceful song repeat;

My Light—my Life—my God—my Saviour,—see,

And rival angels in the praise of Thee.

Young.

O Saviour God! O Lamb once slain!

At thought of Thee, Thy love, Thy flowing blood,

All thoughts decay; all things remembered fade;

All hopes return; all actions done by men

Or angels disappear, absorbed and lost.

Pollok.

Exalted high at God’s right hand

And Lord of all below,

Through Him is pardoning love dispensed,

And boundless blessings flow.

And still for erring guilty man

A brother’s pity flows;

And still His bleeding heart is touched

With memory of our woes.

So then, my Saviour, and my King,

Glad homage let me give;

And stand prepared like Thee to die,

With Thee that I may live.

Mrs. Barbauld.

My soul shall cry to Thee, O Lord!

To Thee supreme incarnate word!

My rock and fortress, shield and friend,

Creator, Saviour, source, and end!

Yea, Thou wilt hear Thy servant’s prayer,

Though death and darkness speak despair.

Bowdler.

Dear Saviour! draw reluctant hearts,

To Thee let sinners fly,

And take the bliss Thy love imparts,

And drink, and never die!

Steele.

Saviour! and dost Thou speak

Such gracious words to me?

Dost Thou the wanderer seek

Who basely fled from Thee?

Wilt Thou my footsteps guide

To where Thy sheep beside

The living streams abide?

I come, I come, with shame and grief opprest,

Thy feet embrace, and shelter in thy breast.

Pearson.

A Saviour’s light shall break,

A ray from Jacob’s star the darkness streak:

To Him the fairest scenes their lustre owe;

His covenant brightens the celestial bow;

His vast benevolence profusely spreads

The yellow harvests, and the verdant meads.

John Duick.

Great God, Thy judgments all are just and right;

Thou art all pity, and to anger slow;

But I have done such evil in Thy sight,

That mercy now with justice cannot flow.

Yes, gracious God, my sins have reached such height,

As leaves no choice but how to deal the blow;

Such guilt to pardon would Thy honour blight,

And even Thy goodness seals my final woe.

Consult Thy glory, then withhold no more,

Let fall Thy thunder, and my tears forget,

Wage war for war, pour Thy avenging flood;

The justice which consumes me I adore.

But where to strike, O Lord? where find even yet

A spot not covered by the Saviour’s blood?

James Glassford.

’Tis midnight; and on Olive’s brow

The star is dimmed that lately shone;

’Tis midnight, in the garden, now,

The suffering Saviour prays alone.

’Tis midnight; and from all removed,

The Saviour wrestles lone, with fears;

E’en that disciple whom He loved

Heeds not his Master’s grief and tears.

’Tis midnight; and for others’ guilt

The Man of Sorrows weeps in blood;

Yet He that hath in anguish knelt,

Is not forsaken by His God.

’Tis midnight; and from ether plains

Is borne the song that angels know;

Unheard by mortals are the strains

That sweetly soothe the Saviour’s woe.

W. B. Tappan.