3 And nothing can, I hourly see,
Drive thee from me.
Thou art the same, faithful and just,
In life or dust.
Though then, thus crumbed, I stray
In blasts,
Or exhalations, and wastes,
Beyond all eyes,
Yet thy love spies
That change, and knows thy clay.
4 The world's thy box: how then, there tossed,
Can I be lost?
But the delay is all; Time now
Is old and slow;
His wings are dull and sickly.
Yet he
Thy servant is, and waits on thee.
Cut then the sum,
Lord, haste, Lord, come,
O come, Lord Jesus, quickly!
'And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the first-fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.'—ROM. viii. 23.
CHEERFULNESS.
1 Lord, with what courage and delight
I do each thing,
When thy least breath sustains my wing!
I shine and move
Like those above,
And, with much gladness
Quitting sadness,
Make me fair days of every night.
2 Affliction thus mere pleasure is;
And hap what will,
If thou be in't,'tis welcome still.
But since thy rays
In sunny days
Thou dost thus lend,
And freely spend,
Ah! what shall I return for this?
3 Oh that I were all soul! that thou
Wouldst make each part
Of this poor sinful frame pure heart!
Then would I drown
My single one;
And to thy praise
A concert raise
Of hallelujahs here below.
THE PASSION.
1 O my chief good!
My dear, dear God!
When thy blest blood
Did issue forth, forced by the rod,
What pain didst thou
Feel in each blow!
How didst thou weep,
And thyself steep
In thy own precious, saving tears!
What cruel smart
Did tear thy heart!
How didst thou groan it
In the spirit,
O thou whom my soul loves and fears!
2 Most blessed Vine!
Whose juice so good
I feel as wine,
But thy fair branches felt as blood,
How wert thou pressed
To be my feast!
In what deep anguish
Didst thou languish!
What springs of sweat and blood did drown thee!
How in one path
Did the full wrath
Of thy great Father
Crowd and gather,
Doubling thy griefs, when none would own thee!