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 obsorb'd as I seem,

I chant to the praise of my King; And though overwhelm'd by the theme, Am happy whenever I sing.

GRATITUDE AND LOVE TO GOD.

LL are indebted much to thee,

AL

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 bounds of gratitude I feel
No 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, dispense
Thy 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.

O 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.

LIVING WATER.

HE fountain in its source

fears;

The farther it pursues its course,

The nobler it appears.

But shallow cisterns yield

A scanty short supply;

The morning sees them amply fill'd,
At evening they are dry.

DIVINE JUSTICE AMIABLE.

HOU hast no lightnings, O thou Just!

THO

Or I their force should know;

And if Thou strike me into dust,
My soul approves the blow.

The heart, that values less its case
Than it adores thy ways,
In thine avenging anger sees
A 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 stroke Shall please me, though it kill.

Am I not worthy to sustain

The 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 spar'st me yet again;
And, when Thy wrath should move,
Too gentle to endure my pain,
Thou sooth'st me with Thy love.

I have no punishment to fear;
But, ah that smile from Thee
Imparts a pang far more severe
Than woe itself would be.

THE SOUL THAT LOVES GOD FINDS HIM

OH

EVERYWHERE.

H Thou, by long experience tried,
Near whom no grief can long abide,

My love how full of sweet content
I pass my years of banishment!

All scenes alike engaging prove
To 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 care
On 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 in finding God in all.

My country, Lord, art Thou alone;
Nor other can I claim or own;
The point were 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 pierc'd by scorn, oppress'd by pride,
I feel Thee good-feel nought beside.
No frowns of men can hurtful prove
To 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.

DIVINE LOVE ENDURES NO RIVAL.

L

OVE 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 move
And stimulate the slumbering mind;

And he has never tasted love,

Who shuns a pang so graciously design'd.