THE SOUL.
XIII.
SELF-CONVERSE.
Heedless soul of mine, bethink thee
Ere thine hours on earth are past,—
Ere thou fly to spirit-regions,
If thou real treasure hast.
Where will be thine endless dwelling?
Where thine everlasting home?
What thy portion, joy or mourning,
In the world beyond the tomb?
When these eyes shall lose their lustre,—
Fading with the failing breath,
And roll, lightless, in the conflict,
With inexorable Death;
How wilt thou survive the anguish—
How sustain all earthly loss,
If thou know not the Redeemer,
If thou cling not to his cross?
XIV.
SELF-REPROACH.
O the weakness, O the folly,
That my heart did e’er entwine
Round a joy, or hope, or promise,
Vain, unstable World, of thine!
Thou with all thy proffered treasure
Shalt ere long from me remove:—
Turn, fond heart, with holy rapture,
Unto God thy trust and love.
Are there none of my companions,
Will from life attend me forth,
Or will fondly watch beside me
In the cold and silent earth?
All thy boasting this, O Friendship!
Shedding tears and heaving sighs,
When my need of thee is greatest,
When thy doting votary dies?
XV.
APPEAL.
Unhappy soul, what sayest thou
To one with power and love
All thy transgressions to forgive,
Thy misery to remove?
Wilt follow Him, poor guilty soul?
He giveth life and He doth kill:
Arise, arise, and in Him trust;
Say, guilty soul, “I will!”
His are the skies above thee spread,
He sitteth on heaven’s throne;
All His, if thou art with him joined,
He bids thee deem thine own.
Wilt follow Him, sad, needy soul?
He condescends to call thee still:
Come, doubt no longer, in Him trust;
Say, needy soul, “I will!”
XVI.
THE SEARCH.
I had sought throughout creation,
Searched its vast, amazing whole,
For an object to delight in,
Adequate to fill the soul.
After turning nature’s pages
Forward, backward, o’er and o’er,
I attained not satisfaction,
But my longings grew the more.
Then amid angelic orders
Asked I if there were not one,
Willing to extend his friendship
To a wretched soul undone:
Soon a lofty spirit answered,
“No; there is not one of us,
Can hold friendship with a spirit
Fallen, guilty, wandering thus.”
Shame and grief now overwhelmed me,—
My sad heart was nigh to break,
All my frame with terror trembled,
And my tongue no more could speak;
Then gushed forth a briny torrent,
Down unto the crystal floor,
Nothing through unending ages,
Can from memory blot that hour.
Then a glance in helpless sorrow
Turned I to the central throne,—
There I saw the Mediator
Who for my life gave his own.
“There is He,” I faintly whispered,
“Read I not upon His face,
That his heart is full of pity,
Full, to sinful worms, of grace?”
Then I drew unto his footstool,
Prostrate fell before his seat;
And I pleaded for his favour;
Pointing to his hands and feet:
“I will pour,” I said, “my sorrow
And my need into his ear,
All my grief I will unbosom:
It is Jesus, need I fear!”
Then while I a bosom opened,
Full of darkness, want and sin,
He a bosom full of mercy
Opened to receive me in:
Those kind hands which once were piercèd,
Reached he forth to raise my head:—
From that all-transporting moment
All my hopeless longings fled.
XVII.
A FAREWELL.
Fly, Earth’s gaudy, fading trifles;
Empty joys, no longer stay:
Stand aside, vain schemes of profit:
Gay companions, speed away!
I depart, the Bridegroom cometh;
I dare sport with you no more,
But would with the wise now ready
Enter ere He close the door.
Come, ye thoughtless, enter with me,
Flee, while Mercy saith there’s room:
Flee, before the storm o’ertake you:
Flee, ere your destruction come:
Swiftly speeds the dread avenger,
Swiftly speeds the judgement hour;
Speed we to the refuge swiftly,
While we have an open door.
XVIII.
THE UNSEEN.
Though unseen, O Lord, I love Thee,
Wondrous is thy saving might,
Thus to wean my soul so sweetly
From its sinful chief delight:
More Thou didst in one short instant
Than a world could e’er have done,
Winning Thee a happy dwelling
In this sterile heart of stone.
XIX.
HOLY WONDER.
Strange that I am not cut down
Without mercy,
To endure thy righteous frown,
Beyond pity!
That on earth I still survive
I will praise Thee—
To thy praise and glory live,
Who hath spared me.
Strange Thou shouldst have looked on me—
Worthless, guilty:
Who can count my debt to Thee,
Lord, most holy?
If I reach thy heavenly seat,
Songs unceasing
Shall my raptured tongue repeat—
Thee adoring.
XX.
OUT OF THE DUST.
Lord, hear my cry and see my case,
As hart for streams I pant for grace:
Come, O my God, bear me above,
To bathe my wounds in thy blest love.
Are there not myriads now in bliss,
Whose cry on earth was often this?
Here in the dust how deep their groans,
But now they sit on glorious thrones.
When shall I that glad hour behold,
When sin shall quit its deadly hold;
When I my Christ unveiled shall see,
And pass through all my misery!
O that I could from sinning cease,
And wait on Pisgah my release,
Until I saw the dawn of day,
And Jesus called his child away!
If Thou wilt not complete me now,
Before my head in death I bow,
In dreary Kedar walk with me;
My life would languish losing Thee.
XXI.
ANTICIPATION.
If I, the sin-benighted,
At length attain the goal,
O what will be the transport
Of my enraptured soul:
The triumph celebrating
Of saving Mercy’s power,
Nor dread again to perish,
Nor wander evermore!
XXII.
KISSING THE ROD.
Teach me Aaron’s thoughtful silence
When corrected by thy rod;
Teach me Eli’s acquiescence,
Saying, “Do thy will, my God:”
Teach me Job’s confiding patience,
Dreading words from pride that flow;
For Thou, Lord, alone exaltest,
And Thou only layest low.
XXIII.
SPEAKING UNTO GOD.
How shall I my case discover,
Who can estimate my grief!
If a cloud thy presence darken,
Nought can give my soul relief.
Through the clouds let my entreaty—
Let these sighs to Thee ascend,
Till new light break o’er my spirit—
Till thy gracious ear attend.
All my groans, my sighs, and weeping,
All my best resolves are vain,
My most watchful thoughts avail not,
Victory o’er sin to gain.
Lord, His name I plead who suffered
For lost man thy holy frown:
See the reed, the cross, the scourging;
See the robe, the thorny crown!
Through the sole atoning merit
Of the blood by Jesus shed,
Scatter all the sin that hinders
Heaven from shining on my head.
Pardon all the great transgressions,
Which I cannot count to Thee:
Look for merits in my Saviour,
Not, my righteous God, in me.
If for sin He was afflicted,
If the spear did pierce His side,
If His hands and feet were nailèd,
If flowed forth His vital tide;
Let the fruit of that deep anguish,
Let the purchase of that pain,
Be imparted to my spirit—
Shall the plea be made in vain!
XXIV.
EXPERIENCE.
(IN IMITATION OF A FAVOURITE WELSH MEASURE.)
Sweet, sweet,
It is with thine, my God, to meet,
And lay our burdens at Thy feet:
False passion’s heat from thence departs;
Our weary hearts before Thee rest,
And by thee blessed forget their smarts.
Far, far,
From me my comrades in the war,
And this doth much my courage mar:
Haste in thy car of strength, O Lord!
With thine own sword my foes confound:
Then all the year round I’ll trust thy word.
XXV.
THE DAILY CROSS.
And must the cross attend my way,
And load my spirit night and day?
Lord, if it must, make me content:
Help me to keep the end in view,
And sing through fire and water too,
Until my span of life be spent.
Oft I recall thy faithful love—
The comfort promised from above—
The legacy Thou gavest—peace:
Impart from day to day to me
That peace, that comfort, Lord, and see
That with my strength my cross decrease.
If to the east or west I go.
None true like Him on earth I know,
He makes my fainting spirit strong:
If His bright face upon me shine,
I can the world and self resign:
My crosses then become my song.
XXVI.
THE CROSS A CROWN.
My Lord with his affliction,
His cross and bitter pain,
Affords me joy while living,
And dying will be gain.
In his reproach is honour,
In his rude cross a crown,
And in his love a treasure
Surpassing all renown.
XXVII.
EARLY HOPES.
In the morning I expected,
That I should long, long ere now,
All my eager foes have conquered,
That a crown should grace my brow
War and tumult,
Still distress my wearied ears.
In an agony of longing,
I await the signal day,
When my fetters shall be broken,
When from earth I fly away;
And for tumults,
Hear alone the songs of heaven.
XXXVIII.
EXILE.
I’ll spend my few remaining days,
While here ordained to roam,
As exiles do in distant lands,
I’ll think of nought but home.
Wistful upon the strand I gaze
Toward heaven, my country’s shore,
Expecting hence ere long to sail,
And sin and weep no more.
When I depart for other worlds,
What friend will cleave to me?
None, none, how well soe’er beloved—
Dear Jesus, none but Thee.
XXIX.
A FATHER AT THE HELM.
Far, far on the ocean one cold starless night,
A small bark was sailing in pitiful plight:
The boom of the billows, as on rushed the storm,
O’ercame the stout hearts of the men with alarm.
But one in that lone boat was fearless the while,—
The captain’s bright boy:—looking round with a smile:
“The storm threatens,” he said, “but still do not fear,
We safely shall land, for my Father doth steer.”
O why, child of heaven, is thy faithless breast,
In viewing the tempest with terror oppressed?
The dark depths are roaring, but yield not to fear,
Thy vessel is safe, for thy Father doth steer.
Soon, soon endless joy shall encompass thy brow,
Thy friends on the shore are awaiting thee now:
Unfurl every sail, see the bright morn appear,
And Canaan is nigh, and thy Father doth steer.
Unfurl every sail, for the favouring breeze
Is urging thee on to the haven of peace:
Thine anchor is safe—thou to Jesus art dear:
Thou hast entered the port—and thy Father doth steer.
XXX.
EVENING HYMN.
Jesus, my Saviour and my God,
Who gavest us thy precious blood
To heal our guilty smart:
O give me faith to make my nest,
Where this my soul may hide and rest,
Within thy wounded heart.
In thy safe bosom let me lie,
Prepared in holy peace to die,
If Thou ere morn shouldst call:
Then may thine angel-guards attend,
And me from Satan’s power defend,
Lest to his hands I fall.
XXXI.
LONGING.
Direct unto my God,
With speed, my cry ascend:
Present to Him this urgent plea:—
“In mercy, Lord, attend!
“Fulfil thy gracious word,
“To bring me to thy rest;
“In Salem soon my place prepare,
“And make me ever blest!
“Down in a vale of tears
“Where dwelt my Christ I mourn,
“And in the conflict with my foes,
“My tender heart is torn:
“O heal each bleeding wound,
“With thy life-giving tree;
“In Salem, Lord, above the strife,
“A place prepare for me!”
XXXII.
A GLANCE.
A pilgrim I to Canaan flee,
To dwell, my blessed Lord, with Thee
In thine eternal rest:[4]
Beyond the tempter’s roar and dart,
And every foe to cause me smart,
Thy constant, filial guest.
Afar I sometimes see below
A glimpse of Salem’s mansions glow,
All blessèd, all divine:
O city high, nor sun nor moon,
Arise o’er thee, God is thy noon!
When shall thy bliss be mine?
At the great resurrection day,
I shall shake off this heavy clay,
And rise above the earth:
Then mount on wings sublime to heaven,
When Thou hast powers immortal given,
O strange, and glorious birth!
And then, with life immortal crowned,
My feeble song of glory drowned
Among the sons of light,
Our strains shall high and higher swell,
In keeping feast without farewell,
To Jesus day and night.
[4]Originally “nyth,” nest.
XXXIII.
DESIRE.
Thy bright, swift pinions, Dawn, had I,
To distant realms my soul would fly;
And view eternal mansions there,
Where my lost friends and Saviour are.
O were to me that chariot given,
Which bore the man of God to heaven:
I would this earthly tent resign,
And every mortal joy of mine.
By day or night I should not tire,
Had I pillared cloud and fire:
I’d sing the dreary desert through,
And joyful enter Jordan too.
Or could I Jacob’s ladder climb,
I’d leave afar the clouds of time;
Nor rest until my favoured ears
Caught angel-strains above the spheres.
My soul, it is thy Peniel here,
Repeat good Jacob’s earnest prayer:
Perchance, before the morning wake,
The day divine may o’er thee break.
XXXIV.
JUBILEE.
I am through the lone night waiting,
For the dawning of the day,
When my prison door is opened,
When my fetters fall away.
O come quickly,
Happy day of Jubilee!
Let me still be meekly wakeful,
Trusting that to all my woes,
By thy mighty hand, Redeemer,
Shall be given a speedy close:
Keep me watching,
For the joyful Jubilee.
XXXV.
LOOKING BEYOND.
I look beyond the distant hills,
My risen Lord to see:
O come, Beloved, ere the dusk,
My sun doth set on me!
Methinks that were my feet released
From these afflicting chains,
I would but sing of Calvary,
Nor think of all my pains.
I long for thy divine abode,
Where sinless myriads dwell,
Who ceaseless sing thy boundless love,
And all thy glories tell.
XXXVI.
ONE WITH CHRIST.
(TO A CHRISTIAN FRIEND UNDER BEREAVEMENT.)
What though the dark cloud for a season doth hover,
O’er pleasures and prospects so humble as thine;
The joy of the past taken from thee for ever—
And thy faint heart tempted by grief to repine:
Thy Loved and thy Lost shall on earth no more greet thee,
Farewell hath thine eyes with its weeping made dim;
But think, though Creation henceforth may seem empty,
Thou canst not be severed a moment from HIM.
Oft, oft shall the prayer unto God be ascending,
Though far in the wilderness from thee we dwell,
That into thine heart He may daily be sending
Joys, comforts, and blessings which tongue cannot tell:
That long be thy life, and all-fragrant that life be,
And if more affliction thy bliss should bedim.
His voice of compassion may sweetly remind thee,
Thy life, in thy trials, is hidden with HIM.
But short is our sojourn on earth at the longest,
The day comes apace mid our pleasure and strife,
When, though to the seeming we flourish the fairest,
Shall our roots be plucked up from this nursery—life:
And O, when the tomb life’s scenes from us shall sever,
When death’s awful shadow this world shall bedim,
May we rise to the kingdom of life and for ever
Be planted in glory—true branches of HIM.