Ye linnets, let us try, beneath this grove,Which shall be loudest in our Maker's praise!In quest of some forlorn retreat I rove,For all the world is blind, and wanders from his ways.That God alone should prop the sinking soul.Fills them with rage against his empire now:I traverse earth in vain from pole to pole,To seek one simple heart, set free from all below.They speak of love, yet little feel its sway,While in their bosoms many an idol lurks;Their base desires, well satisfied, obey,Leave the Creator's hand, and lean upon his works.'Tis therefore I can dwell with man no more;Your fellowship, ye warblers! suits me best:Pure love has lost its price, though prized of yore,Profaned by modern tongues, and slighted as a jest.My God, who form'd you for his praise alone,Beholds his purpose well fulfill'd in you;Come, let us join the choir before his throne,Partaking in his praise with spirits just and true.Yes, I will always love; and, as I ought,Tune to the praise of love my ceaseless voice;Preferring love too vast for human thought,In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice.Why have I not a thousand thousand hearts,Lord of my soul! that they might all be thine?If thou approve—the zeal thy smile imparts,How should it ever fail! can such a fire decline?Love, pure and holy, is a deathless fire;Its object heavenly, it must ever blaze:Eternal love a God must needs inspire,When once he wins the heart, and fits it for his praise.Self-love dismiss'd—'tis then we live indeed—In her embrace, death, only death is found:Come, then, one noble effort, and succeed,Cast off the chain of self with which thy soul is bound!Oh! I could cry, that all the world might hear,Ye self-tormentors, love your God alone;Let his unequall'd excellence be dear,Dear to your inmost souls, and make him all your own!They hear me not—alas! how fond to roveIn endless chase of folly's specious lure!'Tis here alone, beneath this shady grove,I taste the sweets of truth—here only am secure.
Ye linnets, let us try, beneath this grove,Which shall be loudest in our Maker's praise!In quest of some forlorn retreat I rove,For all the world is blind, and wanders from his ways.
That God alone should prop the sinking soul.Fills them with rage against his empire now:I traverse earth in vain from pole to pole,To seek one simple heart, set free from all below.
They speak of love, yet little feel its sway,While in their bosoms many an idol lurks;Their base desires, well satisfied, obey,Leave the Creator's hand, and lean upon his works.
'Tis therefore I can dwell with man no more;Your fellowship, ye warblers! suits me best:Pure love has lost its price, though prized of yore,Profaned by modern tongues, and slighted as a jest.
My God, who form'd you for his praise alone,Beholds his purpose well fulfill'd in you;Come, let us join the choir before his throne,Partaking in his praise with spirits just and true.
Yes, I will always love; and, as I ought,Tune to the praise of love my ceaseless voice;Preferring love too vast for human thought,In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice.
Why have I not a thousand thousand hearts,Lord of my soul! that they might all be thine?If thou approve—the zeal thy smile imparts,How should it ever fail! can such a fire decline?
Love, pure and holy, is a deathless fire;Its object heavenly, it must ever blaze:Eternal love a God must needs inspire,When once he wins the heart, and fits it for his praise.
Self-love dismiss'd—'tis then we live indeed—In her embrace, death, only death is found:Come, then, one noble effort, and succeed,Cast off the chain of self with which thy soul is bound!
Oh! I could cry, that all the world might hear,Ye self-tormentors, love your God alone;Let his unequall'd excellence be dear,Dear to your inmost souls, and make him all your own!
They hear me not—alas! how fond to roveIn endless chase of folly's specious lure!'Tis here alone, beneath this shady grove,I taste the sweets of truth—here only am secure.
I am fond of the swallow—I learn from her flight,Had I skill to improve it, a lesson of love:How seldom on earth do we see her alight!She dwells in the skies, she is ever above.It is on the wing that she takes her repose,Suspended and poised in the regions of air,'Tis not in our fields that her sustenance grows,It is wing'd like herself, 'tis ethereal fare.She comes in the spring, all the summer she stays,And, dreading the cold, still follows the sun—So, true to our love, we should covet his rays,And the place where he shines not immediately shun.Our light should be love, and our nourishment prayer;It is dangerous food that we find upon earth;The fruit of this world is beset with a snare,In itself it is hurtful, as vile in its birth.'Tis rarely, if ever, she settles below,And only when building a nest for her young;Were it not for her brood, she would never bestowA thought upon any thing filthy as dung.Let us leave it ourselves, ('tis a mortal abode,)To bask every moment in infinite love;Let us fly the dark winter, and follow the roadThat leads to the dayspring appearing above.
I am fond of the swallow—I learn from her flight,Had I skill to improve it, a lesson of love:How seldom on earth do we see her alight!She dwells in the skies, she is ever above.
It is on the wing that she takes her repose,Suspended and poised in the regions of air,'Tis not in our fields that her sustenance grows,It is wing'd like herself, 'tis ethereal fare.
She comes in the spring, all the summer she stays,And, dreading the cold, still follows the sun—So, true to our love, we should covet his rays,And the place where he shines not immediately shun.
Our light should be love, and our nourishment prayer;It is dangerous food that we find upon earth;The fruit of this world is beset with a snare,In itself it is hurtful, as vile in its birth.
'Tis rarely, if ever, she settles below,And only when building a nest for her young;Were it not for her brood, she would never bestowA thought upon any thing filthy as dung.
Let us leave it ourselves, ('tis a mortal abode,)To bask every moment in infinite love;Let us fly the dark winter, and follow the roadThat leads to the dayspring appearing above.
Ah! reign, wherever man is found,My spouse, beloved and divine!Then I am rich, and I abound,When every human heart is thine.A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,To think that all are not thine own:Ah! be adored from pole to pole;Where is thy zeal? arise; be known!All hearts are cold, in every place,Yet earthly good with warmth pursue;Dissolve them with a flash of grace,Thaw these of ice, and give us new!
Ah! reign, wherever man is found,My spouse, beloved and divine!Then I am rich, and I abound,When every human heart is thine.
A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,To think that all are not thine own:Ah! be adored from pole to pole;Where is thy zeal? arise; be known!
All hearts are cold, in every place,Yet earthly good with warmth pursue;Dissolve them with a flash of grace,Thaw these of ice, and give us new!
IN BRINGING A SOUL TO THE POINT OF SELF-RENUNCIATION AND ABSOLUTE ACQUIESCENCE.
'Twas my purpose, on a day,To embark, and sail away.As I climb'd the vessel's side,Love was sporting in the tide;"Come," he said,—"ascend—make haste,Launch into the boundless waste."Many mariners were there,Having each his separate care;They that row'd us held their eyesFix'd upon the starry skies;Others steer'd, or turn'd the sailsTo receive the shifting gales.Love, with power divine supplied,Suddenly my courage tried;In a moment it was night,Ship and skies were out of sight;On the briny wave I lay,Floating rushes all my stay.Did I with resentment burnAt this unexpected turn?Did I wish myself on shore,Never to forsake it more?No—"My soul," I cried, "be still;If I must be lost, I will."Next he hasten'd to conveyBoth my frail supports away;Seized my rushes; bade the wavesYawn into a thousand graves:Down I went, and sunk as lead,Ocean closing o'er my head.Still, however, life was safe;And I saw him turn and laugh:"Friend," he cried, "adieu! lie low,While the wintry storms shall blow;When the spring has calm'd the main,You shall rise and float again."Soon I saw him, with dismay,Spread his plumes, and soar away;Now I mark his rapid flight;Now he leaves my aching sight;He is gone whom I adore,'Tis in vain to seek him more.How I trembled then and fear'd,When my love had disappear'd!"Wilt thou leave me thus," I cried,"Whelm'd beneath the rolling tide?"Vain attempt to reach his ear!Love was gone, and would not hear.Ah! return, and love me still;See me subject to thy will;Frown with wrath, or smile with grace,Only let me see thy face!Evil I have none to fear,All is good, if thou art near.Yet he leaves me—cruel fate!Leaves me in my lost estate—Have I sinn'd? Oh say wherein;Tell me, and forgive my sin!King, and Lord, whom I adore,Shall I see thy face no more?Be not angry; I resign,Henceforth, all my will to thine:I consent that thou depart,Though thine absence breaks my heart;Go then, and for ever too:All is right that thou wilt do.This was just what Love intended,He was now no more offended;Soon as I became a child,Love return'd to me and smiled:Never strife shall more betide'Twixt the bridegroom and his bride.
'Twas my purpose, on a day,To embark, and sail away.As I climb'd the vessel's side,Love was sporting in the tide;"Come," he said,—"ascend—make haste,Launch into the boundless waste."
Many mariners were there,Having each his separate care;They that row'd us held their eyesFix'd upon the starry skies;Others steer'd, or turn'd the sailsTo receive the shifting gales.
Love, with power divine supplied,Suddenly my courage tried;In a moment it was night,Ship and skies were out of sight;On the briny wave I lay,Floating rushes all my stay.
Did I with resentment burnAt this unexpected turn?Did I wish myself on shore,Never to forsake it more?No—"My soul," I cried, "be still;If I must be lost, I will."
Next he hasten'd to conveyBoth my frail supports away;Seized my rushes; bade the wavesYawn into a thousand graves:Down I went, and sunk as lead,Ocean closing o'er my head.
Still, however, life was safe;And I saw him turn and laugh:"Friend," he cried, "adieu! lie low,While the wintry storms shall blow;When the spring has calm'd the main,You shall rise and float again."
Soon I saw him, with dismay,Spread his plumes, and soar away;Now I mark his rapid flight;Now he leaves my aching sight;He is gone whom I adore,'Tis in vain to seek him more.
How I trembled then and fear'd,When my love had disappear'd!"Wilt thou leave me thus," I cried,"Whelm'd beneath the rolling tide?"Vain attempt to reach his ear!Love was gone, and would not hear.
Ah! return, and love me still;See me subject to thy will;Frown with wrath, or smile with grace,Only let me see thy face!Evil I have none to fear,All is good, if thou art near.
Yet he leaves me—cruel fate!Leaves me in my lost estate—Have I sinn'd? Oh say wherein;Tell me, and forgive my sin!King, and Lord, whom I adore,Shall I see thy face no more?
Be not angry; I resign,Henceforth, all my will to thine:I consent that thou depart,Though thine absence breaks my heart;Go then, and for ever too:All is right that thou wilt do.
This was just what Love intended,He was now no more offended;Soon as I became a child,Love return'd to me and smiled:Never strife shall more betide'Twixt the bridegroom and his bride.
There's not an echo round me,But I am glad should learn,How pure a fire has found me,The love with which I burn.For none attends with pleasureTo what I would reveal;They slight me out of measure,And laugh at all I feel.The rocks receive less proudlyThe story of my flame;When I approach, they loudlyReverberate his name.I speak to them of sadness,And comforts at a stand;They bid me look for gladness,And better days at hand.Far from all habitation,I heard a happy sound;Big with the consolation,That I have often found.I said, "My lot is sorrow,My grief has no alloy;"The rocks replied—"To-morrow,To-morrow brings thee joy."These sweet and sacred tidings,What bliss it is to hear!For, spite of all my chidings,My weakness and my fear,No sooner I receive them,Than I forget my pain,And, happy to believe them,I love as much again.I fly to scenes romantic,Where never men resort;For in an age so franticImpiety is sport.For riot and confusionThey barter things above;Condemning, as delusion,The joy of perfect love.In this sequester'd corner,None hears what I express;Deliver'd from the scorner,What peace do I possess!Beneath the boughs reclining,Or roving o'er the wild,I live as undesigningAnd harmless as a child.No troubles here surprise me,I innocently play,While Providence supplies me,And guards me all the day:My dear and kind defenderPreserves me safely here,From men of pomp and splendour,Who fill a child with fear.
There's not an echo round me,But I am glad should learn,How pure a fire has found me,The love with which I burn.
For none attends with pleasureTo what I would reveal;They slight me out of measure,And laugh at all I feel.
The rocks receive less proudlyThe story of my flame;When I approach, they loudlyReverberate his name.I speak to them of sadness,And comforts at a stand;They bid me look for gladness,And better days at hand.
Far from all habitation,I heard a happy sound;Big with the consolation,That I have often found.I said, "My lot is sorrow,My grief has no alloy;"The rocks replied—"To-morrow,To-morrow brings thee joy."
These sweet and sacred tidings,What bliss it is to hear!For, spite of all my chidings,My weakness and my fear,No sooner I receive them,Than I forget my pain,And, happy to believe them,I love as much again.
I fly to scenes romantic,Where never men resort;For in an age so franticImpiety is sport.For riot and confusionThey barter things above;Condemning, as delusion,The joy of perfect love.
In this sequester'd corner,None hears what I express;Deliver'd from the scorner,What peace do I possess!Beneath the boughs reclining,Or roving o'er the wild,I live as undesigningAnd harmless as a child.
No troubles here surprise me,I innocently play,While Providence supplies me,And guards me all the day:My dear and kind defenderPreserves me safely here,From men of pomp and splendour,Who fill a child with fear.
My Spouse! in whose presence I live,Sole object of all my desires,Who know'st what a flame I conceive,And canst easily double its fires!How pleasant is all that I meet!From fear of adversity free,I find even sorrow made sweet;Because 'tis assign'd me by thee.Transported I see thee displayThy riches and glory divine;I have only my life to repay,Take what I would gladly resign.Thy will is the treasure I seek,For thou art as faithful as strong;There let me, obedient and meek,Repose myself all the day long.My spirit and faculties fail;Oh finish what love has begun!Destroy what is sinful and frail,And dwell in the soul thou hast won!Dear theme of my wonder and praise,I cry, who is worthy as thou?I can only be silent and gaze!'Tis all that is left to me now.Oh glory in which I am lost,Too deep for the plummet of thought;On an ocean of Deity toss'd,I am swallow'd, I sink into nought.Yet, lost and absorb'd as I seem,I chant to the praise of my King;And, though overwhelm'd by the theme,Am happy whenever I sing.
My Spouse! in whose presence I live,Sole object of all my desires,Who know'st what a flame I conceive,And canst easily double its fires!How pleasant is all that I meet!From fear of adversity free,I find even sorrow made sweet;Because 'tis assign'd me by thee.
Transported I see thee displayThy riches and glory divine;I have only my life to repay,Take what I would gladly resign.Thy will is the treasure I seek,For thou art as faithful as strong;There let me, obedient and meek,Repose myself all the day long.
My spirit and faculties fail;Oh finish what love has begun!Destroy what is sinful and frail,And dwell in the soul thou hast won!Dear theme of my wonder and praise,I cry, who is worthy as thou?I can only be silent and gaze!'Tis all that is left to me now.
Oh glory in which I am lost,Too deep for the plummet of thought;On an ocean of Deity toss'd,I am swallow'd, I sink into nought.Yet, lost and absorb'd as I seem,I chant to the praise of my King;And, though overwhelm'd by the theme,Am happy whenever I sing.
All are indebted much to thee,But I far more than all,From many a deadly snare set free,And raised from many a fall.Overwhelm me, from above,Daily, with thy boundless love.What bonds of gratitude I feelNo language can declare;Beneath the oppressive weight I reel,'Tis more than I can bear:When shall I that blessing prove,To return thee love for love?Spirit of charity, dispenseThy grace to every heart;Expel all other spirits thence,Drive self from every part;Charity divine, draw nigh,Break the chains in which we lie!All selfish souls, whate'er they feign,Have still a slavish lot;They boast of liberty in vain,Of love, and feel it not.He whose bosom glows with thee,He, and he alone, is free.Oh blessedness, all bliss above,When thy pure fires prevail!Love only teaches what is love:All other lessons fail:We learn its name, but not its powers,Experience only makes it ours.
All are indebted much to thee,But I far more than all,From many a deadly snare set free,And raised from many a fall.Overwhelm me, from above,Daily, with thy boundless love.
What bonds of gratitude I feelNo language can declare;Beneath the oppressive weight I reel,'Tis more than I can bear:When shall I that blessing prove,To return thee love for love?
Spirit of charity, dispenseThy grace to every heart;Expel all other spirits thence,Drive self from every part;Charity divine, draw nigh,Break the chains in which we lie!
All selfish souls, whate'er they feign,Have still a slavish lot;They boast of liberty in vain,Of love, and feel it not.He whose bosom glows with thee,He, and he alone, is free.
Oh blessedness, all bliss above,When thy pure fires prevail!Love only teaches what is love:All other lessons fail:We learn its name, but not its powers,Experience only makes it ours.
My heart is easy, and my burden light;I smile, though sad, when thou art in my sight:The more my woes in secret I deplore,I taste thy goodness, and I love thee more.There, while a solemn stillness reigns around,Faith, love, and hope within my soul abound;And, while the world suppose me lost in care,The joys of angels, unperceived, I share.Thy creatures wrong thee, O thou sovereign good!Thou art not loved, because not understood;This grieves me most, that vain pursuits beguileUngrateful men, regardless of thy smile.Frail beauty and false honour are adored;While Thee they scorn, and trifle with thy word;Pass, unconcern'd, a Saviour's sorrows by;And hunt their ruin with a zeal to die.
My heart is easy, and my burden light;I smile, though sad, when thou art in my sight:The more my woes in secret I deplore,I taste thy goodness, and I love thee more.
There, while a solemn stillness reigns around,Faith, love, and hope within my soul abound;And, while the world suppose me lost in care,The joys of angels, unperceived, I share.
Thy creatures wrong thee, O thou sovereign good!Thou art not loved, because not understood;This grieves me most, that vain pursuits beguileUngrateful men, regardless of thy smile.
Frail beauty and false honour are adored;While Thee they scorn, and trifle with thy word;Pass, unconcern'd, a Saviour's sorrows by;And hunt their ruin with a zeal to die.
The fountain in its source,No drought of summer fears;The farther it pursues its course,The nobler it appears.But shallow cisterns yieldA scanty short supply;The morning sees them amply fill'd,At evening they are dry.
The fountain in its source,No drought of summer fears;The farther it pursues its course,The nobler it appears.
But shallow cisterns yieldA scanty short supply;The morning sees them amply fill'd,At evening they are dry.
O love, of pure and heavenly birth!O simple truth, scarce known on earth!Whom men resist with stubborn will;And, more perverse and daring still,Smother and quench, with reasonings vain,While error and deception reign.Whence comes it, that, your power the sameAs His on high from whence you came,Ye rarely find a listening ear,Or heart that makes you welcome here?—Because ye bring reproach and pain,Where'er ye visit, in your train.The world is proud, and cannot bearThe scorn and calumny ye share;The praise of men the mark they mean,They fly the place where ye are seen;Pure love, with scandal in the rear,Suits not the vain; it costs too dear.Then, let the price be what it may,Though poor, I am prepared to pay;Come shame, come sorrow; spite of tears,Weakness, and heart-oppressing fears;One soul, at least, shall not repine,To give you room; come, reign in mine!
O love, of pure and heavenly birth!O simple truth, scarce known on earth!Whom men resist with stubborn will;And, more perverse and daring still,Smother and quench, with reasonings vain,While error and deception reign.
Whence comes it, that, your power the sameAs His on high from whence you came,Ye rarely find a listening ear,Or heart that makes you welcome here?—Because ye bring reproach and pain,Where'er ye visit, in your train.
The world is proud, and cannot bearThe scorn and calumny ye share;The praise of men the mark they mean,They fly the place where ye are seen;Pure love, with scandal in the rear,Suits not the vain; it costs too dear.
Then, let the price be what it may,Though poor, I am prepared to pay;Come shame, come sorrow; spite of tears,Weakness, and heart-oppressing fears;One soul, at least, shall not repine,To give you room; come, reign in mine!
Thou hast no lightnings, O thou Just!Or I their force should know;And, if thou strike me into dust,My soul approves the blow.The heart, that values less its easeThan it adores thy ways,In thine avenging anger seesA subject of its praise.Pleased I could lie, conceal'd and lost,In shades of central night;Not to avoid thy wrath, thou know'st,But lest I grieve thy sight.Smite me, O thou, whom I provoke!And I will love thee still:The well deserved and righteous strokeShall please me, though it kill.Am I not worthy to sustainThe worst thou canst devise;And dare I seek thy throne again,And meet thy sacred eyes?Far from afflicting, thou art kind;And, in my saddest hours,An unction of thy grace I find,Pervading all my powers.Alas! thou sparest me yet again;And, when thy wrath should move,Too gentle to endure my pain,Thou soothest me with thy love.I have no punishment to fear;But, ah! that smile from theeImparts a pang far more severeThan woe itself would be.
Thou hast no lightnings, O thou Just!Or I their force should know;And, if thou strike me into dust,My soul approves the blow.
The heart, that values less its easeThan it adores thy ways,In thine avenging anger seesA subject of its praise.
Pleased I could lie, conceal'd and lost,In shades of central night;Not to avoid thy wrath, thou know'st,But lest I grieve thy sight.
Smite me, O thou, whom I provoke!And I will love thee still:The well deserved and righteous strokeShall please me, though it kill.
Am I not worthy to sustainThe worst thou canst devise;And dare I seek thy throne again,And meet thy sacred eyes?
Far from afflicting, thou art kind;And, in my saddest hours,An unction of thy grace I find,Pervading all my powers.
Alas! thou sparest me yet again;And, when thy wrath should move,Too gentle to endure my pain,Thou soothest me with thy love.
I have no punishment to fear;But, ah! that smile from theeImparts a pang far more severeThan woe itself would be.
Oh thou, by long experience tried,Near whom no grief can long abide;My love! how full of sweet contentI pass my years of banishment!All scenes alike engaging proveTo souls impress'd with sacred love!Where'er they dwell, they dwell in thee;In heaven, in earth, or on the sea.To me remains nor place nor time;My country is in every clime;I can be calm and free from careOn any shore, since God is there.While place we seek, or place we shun,The soul finds happiness in none;But, with a God to guide our way,'Tis equal joy to go or stay.Could I be cast where thou art not,That were indeed a dreadful lot;But regions none remote I call,Secure of finding God in all.My country, Lord, art thou alone;Nor other can I claim or own;The point where all my wishes meet;My law, my love, life's only sweet!I hold by nothing here below;Appoint my journey and I go;Though pierced by scorn, oppress'd by pride,I feel thee good—feel nought beside.No frowns of men can hurtful proveTo souls on fire with heavenly love;Though men and devils both condemn,No gloomy days arise from them.Ah then! to his embrace repair;My soul, thou art no stranger there;There love divine shall be thy guard,And peace and safety thy reward.
Oh thou, by long experience tried,Near whom no grief can long abide;My love! how full of sweet contentI pass my years of banishment!
All scenes alike engaging proveTo souls impress'd with sacred love!Where'er they dwell, they dwell in thee;In heaven, in earth, or on the sea.
To me remains nor place nor time;My country is in every clime;I can be calm and free from careOn any shore, since God is there.
While place we seek, or place we shun,The soul finds happiness in none;But, with a God to guide our way,'Tis equal joy to go or stay.
Could I be cast where thou art not,That were indeed a dreadful lot;But regions none remote I call,Secure of finding God in all.
My country, Lord, art thou alone;Nor other can I claim or own;The point where all my wishes meet;My law, my love, life's only sweet!
I hold by nothing here below;Appoint my journey and I go;Though pierced by scorn, oppress'd by pride,I feel thee good—feel nought beside.
No frowns of men can hurtful proveTo souls on fire with heavenly love;Though men and devils both condemn,No gloomy days arise from them.
Ah then! to his embrace repair;My soul, thou art no stranger there;There love divine shall be thy guard,And peace and safety thy reward.
How happy are the new-born race,Partakers of adopting grace;How pure the bliss they share!Hid from the world and all its eyes,Within their heart the blessing lies,And conscience feels it there.The moment we believe, 'tis ours;And if we love with all our powersThe God from whom it came;And if we serve with hearts sincere,'Tis still discernible and clear,An undisputed claim.But, ah! if foul and wilful sinStain and dishonour us within,Farewell the joy we knew;Again the slaves of nature's sway,In labyrinths of our own we stray,Without a guide or clue.The chaste and pure, who fear to grieveThe gracious Spirit they receive,His work distinctly trace:And, strong in undissembling love,Boldly assert and clearly proveTheir hearts his dwelling place.Oh messenger of dear delight,Whose voice dispels the deepest night,Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove!With thee at hand, to soothe our pains,No wish unsatisfied remains,No task but that of love.'Tis love unites what sin divides;The centre, where all bliss resides;To which the soul once brought,Reclining on the first great cause,From his abounding sweetness drawsPeace passing human thought.Sorrow foregoes its nature there,And life assumes a tranquil air,Divested of its woes;There sovereign goodness soothes the breast,Till then incapable of rest,In sacred sure repose.
How happy are the new-born race,Partakers of adopting grace;How pure the bliss they share!Hid from the world and all its eyes,Within their heart the blessing lies,And conscience feels it there.
The moment we believe, 'tis ours;And if we love with all our powersThe God from whom it came;And if we serve with hearts sincere,'Tis still discernible and clear,An undisputed claim.
But, ah! if foul and wilful sinStain and dishonour us within,Farewell the joy we knew;Again the slaves of nature's sway,In labyrinths of our own we stray,Without a guide or clue.
The chaste and pure, who fear to grieveThe gracious Spirit they receive,His work distinctly trace:And, strong in undissembling love,Boldly assert and clearly proveTheir hearts his dwelling place.
Oh messenger of dear delight,Whose voice dispels the deepest night,Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove!With thee at hand, to soothe our pains,No wish unsatisfied remains,No task but that of love.
'Tis love unites what sin divides;The centre, where all bliss resides;To which the soul once brought,Reclining on the first great cause,From his abounding sweetness drawsPeace passing human thought.
Sorrow foregoes its nature there,And life assumes a tranquil air,Divested of its woes;There sovereign goodness soothes the breast,Till then incapable of rest,In sacred sure repose.
Love is the Lord whom I obey,Whose will transported I perform;The centre of my rest, my stay,Love's all in all to me, myself a worm.For uncreated charms I burn,Oppress'd by slavish fear no more,For One in whom I may discern,E'en when he frowns, a sweetness I adore.He little loves him who complains,And finds him rigorous and severe;His heart is sordid, and he feigns,Though loud in boasting of a soul sincere.Love causes grief, but 'tis to moveAnd stimulate the slumbering mind;And he has never tasted love,Who shuns a pang so graciously design'd.Sweet is the cross, above all sweets,To souls enamour'd with thy smiles;The keenest woe life ever meets,Love strips of all its terrors, and beguiles.'Tis just that God should not be dearWhere self engrosses all the thought,And groans and murmurs make it clear,Whatever else is loved, the Lord is not.The love of thee flows just as muchAs that of ebbing self subsides;Our hearts, their scantiness is such,Bear not the conflict of two rival tides.Both cannot govern in one soul;Then let self-love be dispossess'd;The love of God deserves the whole,And will not dwell with so despised a guest.
Love is the Lord whom I obey,Whose will transported I perform;The centre of my rest, my stay,Love's all in all to me, myself a worm.
For uncreated charms I burn,Oppress'd by slavish fear no more,For One in whom I may discern,E'en when he frowns, a sweetness I adore.
He little loves him who complains,And finds him rigorous and severe;His heart is sordid, and he feigns,Though loud in boasting of a soul sincere.
Love causes grief, but 'tis to moveAnd stimulate the slumbering mind;And he has never tasted love,Who shuns a pang so graciously design'd.
Sweet is the cross, above all sweets,To souls enamour'd with thy smiles;The keenest woe life ever meets,Love strips of all its terrors, and beguiles.
'Tis just that God should not be dearWhere self engrosses all the thought,And groans and murmurs make it clear,Whatever else is loved, the Lord is not.
The love of thee flows just as muchAs that of ebbing self subsides;Our hearts, their scantiness is such,Bear not the conflict of two rival tides.
Both cannot govern in one soul;Then let self-love be dispossess'd;The love of God deserves the whole,And will not dwell with so despised a guest.
Source of love, and light of day,Tear me from myself away;Every view and thought of mineCast into the mould of thine;Teach, O teach this faithless heartA consistent constant part;Or, if it must live to growMore rebellious, break it now!Is it thus that I requiteGrace and goodness infinite?Every trace of every boonCancell'd and erased so soon!Can I grieve thee, whom I love;Thee, in whom I live and move?If my sorrow touch thee still,Save me from so great an ill!Oh! the oppressive, irksome weight,Felt in an uncertain state;Comfort, peace, and rest, adieu,Should I prove at last untrue!Still I choose thee, follow stillEvery notice of thy will;But, unstable, strangely weak,Still let slip the good I seek.Self-confiding wretch, I thoughtI could serve thee as I ought,Win thee, and deserve to feelAll the love thou canst reveal;Trusting self, a bruised reed,Is to be deceived indeed:Save me from this harm and loss,Lest my gold turn all to dross?Self is earthly—faith aloneMakes an unseen world our own;Faith relinquish'd, how we roam,Feel our way, and leave our home!Spurious gems our hopes entice,While we scorn the pearl of price;And, preferring servants' pay,Cast the children's bread away.
Source of love, and light of day,Tear me from myself away;Every view and thought of mineCast into the mould of thine;Teach, O teach this faithless heartA consistent constant part;Or, if it must live to growMore rebellious, break it now!
Is it thus that I requiteGrace and goodness infinite?Every trace of every boonCancell'd and erased so soon!Can I grieve thee, whom I love;Thee, in whom I live and move?If my sorrow touch thee still,Save me from so great an ill!
Oh! the oppressive, irksome weight,Felt in an uncertain state;Comfort, peace, and rest, adieu,Should I prove at last untrue!Still I choose thee, follow stillEvery notice of thy will;But, unstable, strangely weak,Still let slip the good I seek.
Self-confiding wretch, I thoughtI could serve thee as I ought,Win thee, and deserve to feelAll the love thou canst reveal;Trusting self, a bruised reed,Is to be deceived indeed:Save me from this harm and loss,Lest my gold turn all to dross?
Self is earthly—faith aloneMakes an unseen world our own;Faith relinquish'd, how we roam,Feel our way, and leave our home!Spurious gems our hopes entice,While we scorn the pearl of price;And, preferring servants' pay,Cast the children's bread away.
Love! if thy destined sacrifice am I,Come, slay thy victim, and prepare thy fires;Plunged in thy depths of mercy, let me dieThe death which every soul that lives desires!I watch my hours, and see them fleet away;The time is long that I have languish'd here;Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey,With no reluctance, cheerful and sincere.To me 'tis equal, whether love ordainMy life or death, appoint me pain or ease;My soul perceives no real ill in pain;In ease or health no real good she sees.One good she covets, and that good alone,To choose thy will, from selfish bias free;And to prefer a cottage to a throne,And grief to comfort, if it pleases thee.That we should bear the cross is thy command,Die to the world, and live to self no more;Suffer, unmoved, beneath the rudest hand,As pleased when shipwreck'd as when safe on shore.
Love! if thy destined sacrifice am I,Come, slay thy victim, and prepare thy fires;Plunged in thy depths of mercy, let me dieThe death which every soul that lives desires!
I watch my hours, and see them fleet away;The time is long that I have languish'd here;Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey,With no reluctance, cheerful and sincere.
To me 'tis equal, whether love ordainMy life or death, appoint me pain or ease;My soul perceives no real ill in pain;In ease or health no real good she sees.
One good she covets, and that good alone,To choose thy will, from selfish bias free;And to prefer a cottage to a throne,And grief to comfort, if it pleases thee.
That we should bear the cross is thy command,Die to the world, and live to self no more;Suffer, unmoved, beneath the rudest hand,As pleased when shipwreck'd as when safe on shore.
Blest! who, far from all mankindThis world's shadows left behind,Hears from heaven a gentle strainWhispering love, and loves again.Blest! who, free from self-esteem,Dives into the great Supreme,All desire beside discards,Joys inferior none regards.Blest! who in thy bosom seeksRest that nothing earthly breaks,Dead to self and worldly things,Lost in thee, thou King of kings!Ye that know my secret fire,Softly speak and soon retire;Favour my divine repose,Spare the sleep a God bestows.
Blest! who, far from all mankindThis world's shadows left behind,Hears from heaven a gentle strainWhispering love, and loves again.
Blest! who, free from self-esteem,Dives into the great Supreme,All desire beside discards,Joys inferior none regards.
Blest! who in thy bosom seeksRest that nothing earthly breaks,Dead to self and worldly things,Lost in thee, thou King of kings!
Ye that know my secret fire,Softly speak and soon retire;Favour my divine repose,Spare the sleep a God bestows.
Oh loved! but not enough—though dearer farThan self and its most loved enjoyments are;None duly loves thee, but who, nobly freeFrom sensual objects, finds his all in thee.Glory of God! thou stranger here below,Whom man nor knows, nor feels a wish to know;Our faith and reason are both shock'd to findMan in the post of honour—Thee behind.Reason exclaims—"Let every creature fall,Ashamed, abased, before the Lord of all;"And faith, o'erwhelm'd with such a dazzling blaze,Feebly describes the beauty she surveys.Yet man, dim-sighted man, and rash as blind,Deaf to the dictates of his better mind,In frantic competition dares the skies,And claims precedence of the Only wise.Oh lost in vanity, till once self-known!Nothing is great, or good, but God alone;When thou shalt stand before his awful face,Then, at the last, thy pride shall know his place.Glorious, Almighty, First, and without end!When wilt thou melt the mountains and descend?When wilt thou shoot abroad thy conquering rays,And teach these atoms, thou hast made, thy praise?Thy glory is the sweetest heaven I feel;And, if I seek it with too fierce a zeal,Thy love, triumphant o'er a selfish will,Taught me the passion, and inspires it still.My reason, all my faculties, unite,To make thy glory their supreme delight;Forbid it, fountain of my brightest days,That I should rob thee, and usurp thy praise!My soul! rest happy in thy low estate,Nor hope, nor wish, to be esteem'd or great;To take the impression of a will divine,Be that thy glory, and those riches thine.Confess him righteous in his just decrees,Love what he loves, and let his pleasure please;Die daily; from the touch of sin recede;Then thou hast crown'd him, and he reigns indeed.
Oh loved! but not enough—though dearer farThan self and its most loved enjoyments are;None duly loves thee, but who, nobly freeFrom sensual objects, finds his all in thee.
Glory of God! thou stranger here below,Whom man nor knows, nor feels a wish to know;Our faith and reason are both shock'd to findMan in the post of honour—Thee behind.
Reason exclaims—"Let every creature fall,Ashamed, abased, before the Lord of all;"And faith, o'erwhelm'd with such a dazzling blaze,Feebly describes the beauty she surveys.
Yet man, dim-sighted man, and rash as blind,Deaf to the dictates of his better mind,In frantic competition dares the skies,And claims precedence of the Only wise.
Oh lost in vanity, till once self-known!Nothing is great, or good, but God alone;When thou shalt stand before his awful face,Then, at the last, thy pride shall know his place.
Glorious, Almighty, First, and without end!When wilt thou melt the mountains and descend?When wilt thou shoot abroad thy conquering rays,And teach these atoms, thou hast made, thy praise?
Thy glory is the sweetest heaven I feel;And, if I seek it with too fierce a zeal,Thy love, triumphant o'er a selfish will,Taught me the passion, and inspires it still.
My reason, all my faculties, unite,To make thy glory their supreme delight;Forbid it, fountain of my brightest days,That I should rob thee, and usurp thy praise!
My soul! rest happy in thy low estate,Nor hope, nor wish, to be esteem'd or great;To take the impression of a will divine,Be that thy glory, and those riches thine.
Confess him righteous in his just decrees,Love what he loves, and let his pleasure please;Die daily; from the touch of sin recede;Then thou hast crown'd him, and he reigns indeed.
From thorny wilds a monster came,That fill'd my soul with fear and shame;The birds, forgetful of their mirth,Droop'd at the sight, and fell to earth;When thus a sage address'd mine ear,Himself unconscious of a fear:"Whence all this terror and surprise,Distracted looks, and streaming eyes?Far from the world and its affairs,The joy it boasts, the pain it shares,Surrender, without guile or art,To God an undivided heart;The savage form, so fear'd before,Shall scare your trembling soul no more;For, loathsome as the sight may be,'Tis but the love of self you see.Fix all your love on God alone,Choose but his will, and hate your own:No fear shall in your path be found,The dreary waste shall bloom around,And you, through all your happy days,Shall bless his name, and sing his praise."Oh lovely solitude, how sweetThe silence of this calm retreat!Here Truth, the fair whom I pursue,Gives all her beauty to my view;The simple, unadorn'd displayCharms every pain and fear away.O Truth, whom millions proudly slight;O Truth, my treasure and delight;Accept this tribute to thy name,And this poor heart from which it came!
From thorny wilds a monster came,That fill'd my soul with fear and shame;The birds, forgetful of their mirth,Droop'd at the sight, and fell to earth;When thus a sage address'd mine ear,Himself unconscious of a fear:"Whence all this terror and surprise,Distracted looks, and streaming eyes?Far from the world and its affairs,The joy it boasts, the pain it shares,Surrender, without guile or art,To God an undivided heart;The savage form, so fear'd before,Shall scare your trembling soul no more;For, loathsome as the sight may be,'Tis but the love of self you see.Fix all your love on God alone,Choose but his will, and hate your own:No fear shall in your path be found,The dreary waste shall bloom around,And you, through all your happy days,Shall bless his name, and sing his praise."Oh lovely solitude, how sweetThe silence of this calm retreat!Here Truth, the fair whom I pursue,Gives all her beauty to my view;The simple, unadorn'd displayCharms every pain and fear away.O Truth, whom millions proudly slight;O Truth, my treasure and delight;Accept this tribute to thy name,And this poor heart from which it came!
Since life in sorrow must be spent,So be it—I am well content,And meekly wait my last remove,Seeking only growth in love.No bliss I seek, but to fulfilIn life, in death, thy lovely will;No succours in my woes I want,Save what thou art pleased to grant.Our days are number'd, let us spareOur anxious hearts a needless care:'Tis thine to number out our days;Ours to give them to thy praise.Love is our only business here,Love, simple, constant, and sincere;O blessed days, thy servants see,Spent, O Lord! in pleasing thee!
Since life in sorrow must be spent,So be it—I am well content,And meekly wait my last remove,Seeking only growth in love.
No bliss I seek, but to fulfilIn life, in death, thy lovely will;No succours in my woes I want,Save what thou art pleased to grant.
Our days are number'd, let us spareOur anxious hearts a needless care:'Tis thine to number out our days;Ours to give them to thy praise.
Love is our only business here,Love, simple, constant, and sincere;O blessed days, thy servants see,Spent, O Lord! in pleasing thee!
In vain ye woo me to your harmless joys,Ye pleasant bowers, remote from strife and noise;Your shades, the witnesses of many a vow,Breathed forth in happier days, are irksome now;Denied that smile 'twas once my heaven to see,Such scenes, such pleasures, are all past with me.In vain he leaves me, I shall love him still;And, though I mourn, not murmur at his will;I have no cause—an object all divine,Might well grow weary of a soul like mine;Yet pity me, great God! forlorn, alone,Heartless and hopeless, life and love all gone.
In vain ye woo me to your harmless joys,Ye pleasant bowers, remote from strife and noise;Your shades, the witnesses of many a vow,Breathed forth in happier days, are irksome now;Denied that smile 'twas once my heaven to see,Such scenes, such pleasures, are all past with me.
In vain he leaves me, I shall love him still;And, though I mourn, not murmur at his will;I have no cause—an object all divine,Might well grow weary of a soul like mine;Yet pity me, great God! forlorn, alone,Heartless and hopeless, life and love all gone.
Jealous, and with love o'erflowing,God demands a fervent heart;Grace and bounty still bestowing,Calls us to a grateful part.Oh, then, with supreme affectionHis paternal will regard!If it cost us some dejection,Every sigh has its reward.Perfect love has power to softenCares that might our peace destroy,Nay, does more—transforms them often,Changing sorrow into joy.Sovereign Love appoints the measure,And the number of our pains;And is pleased when we find pleasureIn the trials he ordains.
Jealous, and with love o'erflowing,God demands a fervent heart;Grace and bounty still bestowing,Calls us to a grateful part.
Oh, then, with supreme affectionHis paternal will regard!If it cost us some dejection,Every sigh has its reward.
Perfect love has power to softenCares that might our peace destroy,Nay, does more—transforms them often,Changing sorrow into joy.
Sovereign Love appoints the measure,And the number of our pains;And is pleased when we find pleasureIn the trials he ordains.
Peace has unveil'd her smiling face,And wooes thy soul to her embrace,Enjoy'd with ease, if thou refrainFrom earthly love, else sought in vain;She dwells with all who truth prefer,But seeks not them who seek not her.Yield to the Lord, with simple heart,All that thou hast, and all thou art;Renounce all strength but strength divine;And peace shall be for ever thine:Behold the path which I have trod,My path, till I go home to God.
Peace has unveil'd her smiling face,And wooes thy soul to her embrace,Enjoy'd with ease, if thou refrainFrom earthly love, else sought in vain;She dwells with all who truth prefer,But seeks not them who seek not her.
Yield to the Lord, with simple heart,All that thou hast, and all thou art;Renounce all strength but strength divine;And peace shall be for ever thine:Behold the path which I have trod,My path, till I go home to God.
I place an offering at thy shrine,From taint and blemish clear,Simple and pure in its design,Of all that I hold dear.I yield thee back thy gifts again,Thy gifts which most I prize;Desirous only to retainThe notice of thine eyes.But if, by thine adored decree,That blessing be denied;Resign'd, and unreluctant, seeMy every wish subside.Thy will in all things I approve,Exalted or cast down;Thy will in every state I love,And even in thy frown.
I place an offering at thy shrine,From taint and blemish clear,Simple and pure in its design,Of all that I hold dear.
I yield thee back thy gifts again,Thy gifts which most I prize;Desirous only to retainThe notice of thine eyes.
But if, by thine adored decree,That blessing be denied;Resign'd, and unreluctant, seeMy every wish subside.
Thy will in all things I approve,Exalted or cast down;Thy will in every state I love,And even in thy frown.