Page:The poetical works of William Cowper (IA poeticalworksof00cowp).pdf/119

 Oh! hadst thou left me unchastised, Thy precepts I had still despised; And still the snare in secret laid Had my unwary feet betrayed.

I love thee, therefore, O my God, And breathe towards thy dear abode; Where, in thy presence fully blest, Thy chosen saints for ever rest.

billows swell, the winds are high, Clouds overcast my wintry sky; Out of the depths to thee I call,— My fears are great, my strength is small.

O Lord, the pilot's part perform, And guard and guide me through the storm; Defend me from each threatening ill, Control the waves,—say, "Peace! be still."

Amidst the roaring of the sea My soul still hangs her hope on thee; Thy constant love, thy faithful care, Is all that saves me from despair.

Dangers of every shape and name Attend the followers of the Lamb, Who leave the world's deceitful shore, And leave it to return no more.

Though tempest-tost and half a wreck, My Saviour through the floods I seek; Let neither winds nor stormy main Force back my shattered bark again.

of my life, to thee I call, Afflicted at thy feet I fall; When the great water-floods prevail, Leave not my trembling heart to fail!

Friend of the friendless and the faint, Where should I lodge my deep complaint? Where but with thee, whose open door Invites the helpless and the poor!

Did ever mourner plead with thee, And thou refuse that mourner's plea? Does not the word still fixed remain, That none shall seek thy face in vain?

That were a grief I could not bear, Didst thou not hear and answer prayer; But a prayer-hearing, answering God Supports me under every load.

Fair is the lot that's cast for me; I have an Advocate with thee; They whom the world caresses most Have no such privilege to boast.

Poor though I am, despised, forgot, Yet God, my God, forgets me not: And he is safe, and must succeed, For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead.

soul is sad, and much dismayed;
 * See, Lord, what legions of my foes

With fierce Apollyon at their head,
 * My heavenly pilgrimage oppose!

See, from the ever-burning lake,
 * How like a smoky cloud they rise!

With horrid blasts my soul they shake,
 * With storms of blasphemies and lies.

Their fiery arrows reach the mark,
 * My throbbing heart with anguish tear;

Each lights upon a kindred spark,
 * And finds abundant fuel there.

I hate the thought that wrongs the Lord;
 * Oh! I would drive it from my breast,

With thy own sharp two-edged sword,
 * Far as the east is from the west.

Come, then, and chase the cruel host,
 * Heal the deep wounds I have received!

Nor let the powers of darkness boast
 * That I am foiled, and thou art grieved!

darkness long has veiled my mind,
 * And smiling day once more appears,

Then, my Redeemer, then I find
 * The folly of my doubts and fears.

Straight I upbraid my wandering heart,
 * And blush that I should ever be

Thus prone to act so base a part,
 * Or harbour one hard thought of thee.