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Each moment draw from earth away
My heart, which lowly waits thy call : Speak to my inmost soul, and say,
“I am thy Life, thy God, thy All!" Thy love to taste, thy voice to hear, Thy power to prove, be all my care !
'Tis not too hard, too high an aim,
Secure in Christ thy part to claim;
The sensual instinct to controul,
And warm with purer fires the soul.
Nature will raise up all her strife,
Reluctant to the heavenly life;
Loth in a Saviour's death to share,
Her daily cross compell’d to bear-
But Grace, omnipotent at length,
Shall arm the saint with saving strength :
Through the sharp war with aids attend,
And his long conflict sweetly end.
Act but the infant's gentle part;
Give up to love thy willing heart:
No fondest parent's melting breast
Yearns, like thy God's, to make thee blest.
Taught its dear mother soon to know,
The tenderest babe its love can show :
Bid thy base servile fear retire;
This task no labour will require.
The Sov'reign Father, good and kind,
Wants but to have his child resign'd;
Wants but thy yielded heart (no more !)
With his large gifts of grace to store.
He to thy soul no anguish brings :
From thine own stubborn will it springs :
That foe but crucify (thy bane!)
Nought shalt thou know of frowns or pain.
Shake from thy soul, o'erwhelm'd, deprest,
Th' encumbering load which galls her rest,
And wastes her strength in bondage vain:
With courage break th' enslaving chain.
Let faith exert its conquering power :
Cry, in thy tempted, trembling hour,
'My God, my Father! save thy Son !".
'Tis heard—let all thy fears be gone.
Yet if (more earnest plaints to raise)
Thy God awhile his aid delays,
Though his kind hand thou can'st not feel,
Thy grief let lenient patience heal.
Or if corruption's strength prevail,
And oft thy pilgrim footsteps fail;
Lift for his grace thy louder cries,
So shalt thou cleans'd and stronger rise.
If haply still thy mental shade,
Deep as the midnight gloom be made,
On the sure faithful arm divine
Firm let thy fastening trust recline.
The gentle Sire, the best of friends,
To thee, nor loss nor harm intends :
Though toss'd on life's tempestuous main,
No wreck thy vessel shall sustain.
Should there remain of rescuing grace
No glimpse, no footstep left to trace,
Hear thy Lord's voice-'tis Jesus' will —
“ Believe (thou dark, lost pilgrim) still."
Then thy sad night of terrors past,
(Though the dread season long may last,)
Sweet light shall, from the tranquil skies,
Like a fair dawn before thee rise,
Then shall thy faith’s firm grounds appear, Thine eyes
Ah! from thy mind extirpate quite
The sickly films which cloud her sight:
See! of how rich a lot, how blest,
The true believer stands possest!
Come, backward soul, to God resign:
Peace, his best blessing, shall be thine:
Boldly recumbent on his care,
Cast thy felt burdens only there !
God of my life! how good, how wise
Thy judgments to my soul have been ! They were but mercies in disguise,
The painful remedies of sin:
How different now thy ways appear-
Most merciful, when most severe !
Since first the maze of life I trod,
Hast Thou not hedg’d about my way; My worldly, vain designs withstood,
And robb'd my passions of their preyWithheld the fuel from the fire, And cross'd each foolish, fond desire ?
Thou would’st not let the captive go, ,
Or leave me to my carnal will: Thy love forbad my rest below
Thy patient love pursued me still And forc'd me from
sin to part, And tore the idol from
heart. But can I now the loss lament,
Or murmur at thy friendly blow? Thy friendly blow my heart hath rent
From every seeming good below: Thrice happy loss! which makes me see My happiness is all in Thee,
O LORD, my best desire fulfil;
And help me to resign
Life, health, and comfort to thy will,
And make thy pleasure mine.
Why should I shrink at thy command,
Whose love forbids my fears; Or tremble at thy gracious hand,
Which wipes away my tears? No, rather let me freely yield
What most I prize to Thee; Who never hast a good withheld,
Or wilt withhold from me.