Page:The poetical works of William Cowper (IA poeticalworksof00cowp).pdf/122

 tell the Saviour all my wants,
 * How pleasing is the task!

Nor less to praise him when he grants
 * Beyond what I can ask.

My labouring spirit vainly seeks
 * To tell but half the joy;

With how much tenderness he speaks,
 * And helps me to reply.

Nor were it wise, nor should I choose,
 * Such secrets to declare;

Like precious wines their taste they lose,
 * Exposed to open air.

But this with boldness I proclaim,
 * Nor care if thousands hear,

Sweet is the ointment of his name,
 * Not life is half so dear.

And can you frown, my former friends,
 * Who knew what once I was;

And blame the song that thus commends
 * The Man who bore the cross?

Trust me, I draw the likeness true,
 * And not as fancy paints;

Such honour may he give to you,
 * For such have all his saints.

a light surprises
 * The Christian while he sings;

It is the Lord who rises
 * With healing in his wings:

When comforts are declining,
 * He grants the soul again

A season of clear shining,
 * To cheer it after rain.

In holy contemplation,
 * We sweetly then pursue

The theme of God's salvation,
 * And find it ever new:

Set free from present sorrow,
 * We cheerfully can say,

E'en let the unknown to-morrow
 * Bring with it what it may!

It can bring with it nothing
 * But he will bear us through;

Who gives the lilies clothing
 * Will clothe his people too;

Beneath the spreading heavens
 * No creature but is fed;

And he who feeds the ravens
 * Will give his children bread.

Though vine nor fig-tree neither
 * Their wonted fruit shall bear,

Though all the field should wither,
 * Nor flocks nor herds be there:

Yet God the same abiding,
 * His praise shall tune my voice;

For, while in him confiding,
 * I cannot but rejoice.

, my soul with pleasure springs
 * When Jesus' name I hear;

And when God the Spirit brings
 * The word of promise near:

Beauties too, in holiness,
 * Still delighted I perceive;

Nor have words that can express
 * The joys thy precepts give.

Clothed in sanctity and grace,
 * How sweet it is to see

Those who love thee as they pass,
 * Or when they wait on thee!

Pleasant too, to sit and tell
 * What we owe to love divine;

Till our bosoms grateful swell,
 * And eyes begin to shine.

Those the comforts I possess,
 * Which God shall still increase,

All his ways are pleasantness,
 * And all his paths are peace.

Nothing Jesus did or spoke,
 * Henceforth let me ever slight;

For I love his easy yoke,
 * And find his burden light.

and happiness unite
 * To make the Christian's name a praise;

How fair the scene, how clear the light,
 * That fills the remnant of his days!