Page:The poetical works of William Cowper (IA poeticalworksof00cowp).pdf/121

 Perhaps some golden wedge suppressed,
 * Some secret sin offends my God;

Perhaps that Babylonish vest,
 * Self-righteousness, provokes the rod.

Ah! were I buffeted all day,
 * Mocked, crowned with thorns, and spit upon,

I yet should have no right to say,
 * My great distress is mine alone.

Let me not angrily declare
 * No pain was ever sharp like mine,

Nor murmur at the cross I bear,
 * But rather weep, remembering thine.

, my best desire fulfil,
 * And help me to resign

Life, health, and comfort to thy will,
 * And make thy pleasure mine.

Why should I shrink at thy command,
 * Whose love forbids my fears?

Or tremble at the gracious hand
 * That wipes away my tears?

No, rather let me freely yield
 * What most I prize to thee;

Who never hast a good withheld,
 * Or wilt withhold, from me.

Thy favour, all my journey through,
 * Thou art engaged to grant;

What else I want, or think I do,
 * 'Tis better still to want.

Wisdom and mercy guide my way,
 * Shall I resist them both?

A poor blind creature of a day,
 * And crushed before the moth!

But ah! my inward spirit cries,
 * Still bind me to thy sway;

Else the next cloud that veils the skies
 * Drives all these thoughts away.

blessed thy creature is, O God,
 * When, with a single eye,

He views the lustre of thy word,
 * The dayspring from on high!

Through all the storms that veil the skies
 * And frown on earthly things,

The Sun of Righteousness he eyes,
 * With healing on his wings.

Struck by that light, the human heart,
 * A barren soil no more,

Sends the sweet smell of grace abroad,
 * Where serpents lurked before.

The soul, a dreary province once
 * Of Satan's dark domain,

Feels a new empire formed within,
 * And owns a heavenly reign.

The glorious orb whose golden beams
 * The fruitful year control,

Since first, obedient to thy word,
 * He started from the goal,

Has cheered the nations with the joys
 * His orient rays impart;

But, Jesus, 'tis thy light alone
 * Can shine upon the heart.

from the world, O Lord, I flee,
 * From strife and tumult far;

From scenes where Satan wages still
 * His most successful war.

The calm retreat, the silent shade,
 * With prayer and praise agree;

And seem by thy sweet bounty made
 * For those who follow thee.

There, if thy Spirit touch the soul,
 * And grace her mean abode,

Oh! with what peace, and joy, and love,
 * She communes with her God!

There like the nightingale she pours
 * Her solitary lays;

Nor asks a witness of her song,
 * Nor thirsts for human praise.

Author and guardian of my life,
 * Sweet source of light divine,

And-all harmonious names in one—
 * My Saviour! thou art mine!

What thanks I owe thee, and what love,
 * A boundless, endless store,

Shall echo through the realms above,
 * When time shall be no more.