’Tis faith perfumes destruction’s breath,
Our Jesu’s strong to save;
’Tis faith removes the sting of death,
The terrors of the grave!
How oft have I in giddy maze,
This sacred passage trod!
Not thinking ’twas so pure a place,
Much less the house of God!
His mercy doth preserve me still,
He doth not always chide;
But waits that all His love may feel,
Since he for all hath died.
Behind some lofty pillar here,
In silence let me steal;
And tread His courts with humble fear,
And low before him kneel.
With fearful, trembling, broken heart,
To him I lift mine eyes;
And wait till He his love impart,
And conscience bid me rise!
Then will I praise Thee, O my God,
When in my heart it glows!
And gladly wait to hear thy Word,
And catch it as it flows!
Then may I keep thy sabbaths pure,
And still thy house attend;
Until that sabbath shall commence,
Which never hath an end!
LINES ON LEAVING FRYUP, IN SEARCH OF WORK.
I’m sorry, Fryup! thee to leave,
But thou deniest what I crave,
Though I have ask’d with tears!
Oft have I drunk at thy pure rills,
And labour’d ’mongst thy moorland hills,
For many toilsome years!