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By the red lightning rent and riven,
And stretch'd along the plain,
Its gay green boughs again?
And faded from on high,
To glory and the sky ?
Its green leaves to the blast,
Recall its splendours past.
And pressed by human ill,
And find a solace still.
Yes! He who for our ransom bled,
Holds back the avenging rod, When meek contrition bows her head
Repenting to her God. Though dark the sin—though deep the heart
Be sunk in guilt and pain, Yet Mercy can a balm impart,
And raise it up again.
SUPREME High-Priest, the pilgrim's light,
My heart for Thee prepare;
Thy superscription there:
My arm thy badge retain,
That I am born again!
Set up thy dwelling here:
For sin to harbour there:
Which aims at nought but Thee:
But Jesus live in me.
And eagle's eyes were mine!
Of Majesty divine;
I, too, may sit and sing,
The dove's aspiring wing.
CXCVIII. To conquer and to save, the Son of God Came to His own in great humility, Who wont to ride on cherub-wings abroad, And round Him wrap the mantle of the sky, The mountains bent their necks to form His road; The clouds dropt down their fatness from on high; Beneath His feet the wild waves softly flow'd; And the wind kissed His garment tremblingly. The grave unbolted half his grisly door, (For darkness and the deep had heard His fame, Nor longer might their ancient rule endure;) The mightiest of mankind stood hush'd and tame : And, trooping on strong wing, His angels came To work His will, and kingdom to secure: No strength He needed, save His Father's Name; Babes were His heralds, and His friends the poor.
WITHIN this awful volume lies
Who laughs at sin, laughs at his Maker's frowns;
Laughs at the sword of vengeance o'er his head ; Laughs at the great Redeemer's tears and wounds,
Who, but for sin, had never wept or bled. Who laughs at sin, laughs at the numerous woes
Which have the guilty world so oft befell; Laughs at the whole creation's groans and throes,
At all the spoils of death, and pains of hell. Who laughs at sin, laughs at his own disease,
Welcomes approaching torments with his smiles; Dares at his soul's expense his fancy please,
Affronts his God, himself of bliss beguiles. Who laughs at sin, sports at his guilt and shame;
Laughs at the errors of his senseless mind : For so absurd a fool, there wants a name,
Expressive of a folly so refined.
When this passing world is done,
When I hear the wicked call
When I stand before the throne
When the praise of heaven I hear
Even on earth, as through a glass,