WATCHING UNTO GOD IN THE NIGHT SEASON.
LEEP at last has fled these eyes,
Nor do I regret his flight,
More alert my spirits rise,
And my heart is free and light.
Nature silent all around,
Not a single witness near;
God as soon as sought is found;
And the flame of love burns clear.
Interruption, all day long,
Checks the current of my joys;
Creatures press me with a throng,
And perplex me with their noise.
Undisturb'd I muse all night,
On the first Eternal Fair;
Nothing there obstructs delight,
Love is renovated there.
Life, with its perpetual stir,
Proves a foe to love and me;
Fresh entanglements occur-
Comes the night and sets me free.
Never more, sweet sleep, suspend
My enjoyments, always new:
Leave me to possess my friend;
Other eyes and hearts subdue.
Hush the world, that I may wake
To the taste of pure delights;
Oh the pleasures Ï partake—
God, the partner of my nights!
David, for the selfsame cause,
Night preferr'd to busy day;
Hearts whom heavenly beauty draws,
Wish the glaring sun away.
Sleep, self-lovers, is for you-
Souls, that love celestial know,
Fairer scenes by night can view,
Than the sun could ever show.
ONG plunged in sorrow, I resign
That hand shall wipe my streaming eyes; Or into smiles of glad surprise
Transform the falling tear.
My sole possession is Thy love;
In earth beneath, or heaven above,
I have no other store:
And though with fervent suit I pray,
And importune Thee night and day,
I ask Thee nothing more.
My rapid hours pursue the course
Prescribed them by love's sweetest fo ce,
And 1 Thy sovereign will,
Without a wish to escape my doom;
Though still a sufferer from the womb,
And doomed to suffer still.
By Thy command, where'er I stray
Sorrow attends me all my way,
A never-failing friend;
And, if my sufferings may augment
Thy praise, behold me well content-
Let sorrow still attend!
It cost me no regret, that she,
Who follow'd Christ, should follow me;
And though, where'er she goes,
Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet,
I love her, and extract a sweet
From all my bitter woes.
Adieu! ye vain delights of earth,
Insipid sports, and childish mirth,
I taste no sweets in you;
Unknown delights are in the cross,
All joy beside to me is dross;
And Jesus thought so too.
The cross! Oh ravishment and bliss-
How grateful e'en its anguish is ;
Its bitterness how sweet!
There every sense, and all the mind,
In all her faculties refined,
Tastes happiness complete.
Souls, once enabled to disdain
Base sublunary joys, maintain
Their dignity secure ;
The fever of desire is pass'd,
And love has all its genuine taste,
Is delicate and pure.
Self-love no grace in sorrow sees,
Consults her own peculiar ease;
'Tis all the bliss she knows;
But nobler aims true Love employ;
In self-denial is her joy,
In suffering her repose.
Sorrow and Love go side by side;
Nor height nor depth can e'er divide
Their heaven-appointed bands;
Those dear associates still are one,
Nor till the race of life is run
Disjoin their wedded hands.
Jesus, avenger of our fall,
Thou faithful lover, above all
The cross has ever borne !
Oh, tell me-life is in Thy voice-
How much afflictions were Thy choice,
And sloth and ease Thy scorn!
Thy choice and mine shall be the same,
Inspirer of that holy flame,
Which must for ever blaze !
To take the cross and follow Thee,
Where love and duty lead, shall be
My portion and my praise.
TILL, still, without ceasing,
I feel it increasing,
This fervour of holy desire;
And often exclaim,
Let me die in the flaine
Of a love that can never expire!
Had I words to explain
What she must sustain
Who dies to the world and its ways;
How joy and affright,
Distress and delight,
Alternately chequer her days:
Thou, sweetly severe !
I would make Thee appear,
In all Thou art pleased to award,
Not more in the sweet
Than the bitter I meet,
My tender and merciful Lord.
This faith, in the dark,
Pursuing its mark,
Through many sharp trials of love,
Is the sorrowful waste
That is to be pass'd
In the way to the Canaan above.
LOVE INCREASED BY SUFFERING.
LOVE the Lord," is still the strain
This heart delights to sing;
But I reply your thoughts are vain,
Perhaps 'tis no such thing.
Before the power of love divine
Creation fades away;
Till only God is seen to shine
In all that we survey.
|