The storm of loud repining hush, I would in humble silence mourn; Why should the unburnt though burning bush, Man should not faint at thy rebuke, Perhaps some golden wedge suppress'd, Ah! were I buffeted all day, Mock'd, crown'd with thorns, and spit upon; I yet should have no right to say, Let me not angrily declare No pain was ever sharp like mine; Nor murmur at the cross I bear, But rather weep, remembering thine. XLIV. SUBMISSION. O LORD, my best desire fulfil, And help me to resign Life, health, and comfort to thy will, * Joshua vii. 10, 11. Why should I shrink at thy command, Or tremble at the gracious hand No, let me rather freely yield Thy favour, all my journey through, Wisdom and mercy guide my way, A poor blind creature of a day, But ah! my inward spirit cries, Else the next cloud that veils the skies, XLV. THE HAPPY CHANGE. How blest thy creature is, O God, He views the lustre of thy word, The dayspring from on high! Through all the storms that veil the skies, With healing on his wings. Struck by that light, the human heart, Sends the sweet smell of grace abroad, The soul a dreary province once The glorious orb, whose golden beams Since first, obedient to thy word, Has cheer'd the nations with the joys His orient rays impart ; But, Jesus, 'tis thy light alone Can shine upon the heart. XLVI. RETIREMENT. FAR from the world, O Lord, I flee, * Isaiah xxxv. 7. The calm retreat, the silent shade There, if thy Spirit touch the soul, Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love, There like the nightingale she pours Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise. Author and Guardian of my life, What thanks I owe thee, and what love, Shall echo through the realms above When time shall be no more. XLVII. THE HIDDEN LIFE. To tell the Saviour all my wants, Nor less to praise him when he grants My labouring spirit vainly seeks With how much tenderness he speaks, Nor were it wise, nor should I choose, Like precious wines their tastes they lose, But this with boldness I proclaim, Not life is half so dear. And can you frown, my former friends, And blame the song that thus commends Trust me, I draw the likeness true, For such have all his saints. XLVIII. JOY AND PEACE IN BELIEVING. SOMETIMES a light surprises The Christian while he sings; It is the Lord who rises With healing in his wings: |