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Our days are numbered ; let us spare Our anxious hearts a needless care; 'Tis His to number out our days, 'Tis our’s to spend them to His praise.
O THAT my heart was right with Thee,
And loved Thee with a perfect love:
O that my Lord would dwell in me,
And never from his seat remove !
Jesus, apply thy pardoning blood,
And make this bosom fit for God.
Saviour, I dwell in awful night,
Until Thou in my heart
Arise, propitious sun, and light
An everlasting morning there :
Thy presence casts the shadows by;
If Thou withdraw, how dark am I!
O Lord, how should thy servant see,
Unless Thou give me seeing eyes?
Well may I fall, if out of Thee !
If out of Thee, how should I rise ?
I wander wide without thy aid,
And lose my way in midnight shade.
O let my prayer acceptance find,
And bring the mighty blessing down;
Eye-sight impart, for I am blind;
And seal me thine adopted son.
A fallen, helpless creature take,
And heir of thy salvation make.
SWEETEST Saviour, if my soul,
Were but worth the having,
Quickly should I then control
Any thought of waving.
But, when all my care and pains
Cannot give the name of gains
To thy wretch so full of stains,
What delight or hope remains ?
“ What, child ! is the balance thine?
Thine the poise and measure ?
If I say, 'Thou shalt be mine,'
Question not my pleasure.
What the gain in having thee
Doth amount to, only He,
Who for man was sold, can see ;
That transferred the account to me.”
But as I can see no merit
Leading to this favour;
So the way to fit me for it,
Is beyond my savour.
As the reason then is thine,
So the way is none of mine;
I disclaim the whole design:
Lord, to thee I all resign.
“That is all, if that I could
Get without repining,
And my clay, my creature, would
Follow my designing;
That as I did freely part
With my glory and desert,
Left all joys to feel all smart”-
Ah, no more, thou break’st my heart !
The seas are quiet when the winds are o'er : So calm are we when passions are no more! For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness which age descries :
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new lights thro' chinks that time has made.
Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become,
As they draw near to their eternal home;
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
Fair sea! whose lines of rolling wave,
Flash back the gladsome day, And seem,
as the broad beach they lave,
In murmurs soft to say,
“Is there a wand'rer on my breast ?-
I'll bear him gently to his rest,
And soothe his cares away;
Here, where sweet flowers, of thousand hues,
The welcome of their balm diffuse."
Not thus - not thus thine accents broke
On Paul's awaken'd ear,
When hoarse thy boiling waters spoke,
And mocked the seaman's fear.
Thrice rose the sun, yet flung his light
Idly upon that triple night,
Wrought by thy wrestlings drear; Whilst on thy fickle breast of foam Man found nor refuge nor a home.
Rude sea! hadst thou no sealed charge,
That fearful crew to spare,
To mark, when sank the fragile barge,
Thy Lord's beloved there?
Yea, though thou foam above, below,
Thy bounds are set—thus far may’st go,
Farther thou may'st not dare: In vain thy billows course their waySaved are the souls! Disgorge thy prey!
And yet, methinks, when Paul once more
Sought thy rude waves to greet,
The rippling waters coursed the shore,
To kiss his sainted feet-
But he nor trusted thee nor feared;
Not at thy pleasure safe he steered,
Or 'gainst thy scowlings beat :
He knew Jehovah ruled, as slaves,
Thy myriad host of wanton waves.
O for a faith! the faith of Paul,
To rise above things seen ;
To cease to feel and mourn that all
Are not as might have been :