He needs not thus admit of rivals, when
He is the fairest of the sons of men!
He wooes the world, and those who hear his voice,
Seldom, if ever, rue their happy choice.
He says for thee He has in battle bled,
And carried weighty sorrows in thy stead;
To save thy soul from infinite distress,
He bruis’d the monster in the wilderness!
Nay, language fails, to say by land or sea,
What perils He hath undergone for thee;
Yea, many a bitter cup, and piercing smart,
His soul hath felt to gain thy worthless heart!
Yes! He who thus demands thy stedfast love,
Is highly honour’d in the courts above;
He speaks, and sun, and moon, and stars, stand still,
And stormy winds and waves obey his will!
His tender care hath been about thy bed,
When midnight thunders rolled above thy head!
When trembling thou beheld’st the lightning’s glare
Light up thy room, and cause thee sudden fear!
To all who need Him he is sure to prove
The best Physician too, when sick of love;
And yet all those who fall beneath his ire,
His anger doth consume and burn like fire!
How long wilt thou withhold from Him his right,
Or from thyself such permanent delight,
As He hath promis’d in His faithful word,
Such as the hills of Paradise afford?
When will thine eyes with happy tears o’erflow?
And thy fair breast with holy ardour glow?
When will thy lips thy dearest friend surprise,
By speaking out the language of the skies?
Who thus surrender Him their heart and mind,
Through life’s vicissitudes are sure to find
“Him first, Him last, Him midst, and without end,”
A faithful Lover, and a constant Friend!
Where will those flee, or what may they expect,
Who his repeated overtures reject,
Who put in other gods their daily trust,
When He shall dash their refuge into dust?