A never failing friend;
And if my fufferings may augment
Thy praise, behold me well content-
Let Sorrow still attend!
It cofts me no regret, that she,
Who follow'd Chrift, fhould follow me;
And though, where'er fhe goes,
Thorns fpring fpontaneous at her feet,
I love her, and extract a sweet
From all my bitter woes.
Adieu! ye vain delights of earth;
Infipid fports and childish mirth,
I taste no sweets in you;
Unknown delights are in the Cross,
All joy beside to me is dross;
And Jefus thought fo too.
The Cross! Oh ravishment and blifsHow 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 difdain
Bafe fublunary joys, maintain
Their dignity fecure;
The fever of defire is pass'd,
And love has all its genuine taste,
Is delicate and pure.
Self-love no grace in forrow fees,
Confults her own peculiar ease;
'Tis all the blifs fhe knows :
But nobler aims true Love employ;
In felf-denial is her joy,
In fuffering her repose.
Sorrow and Love go fide by fide;
Nor height nor depth can e'er divide
Their heaven-appointed bands;
Those dear affociates ftill are one,
Nor till the race of life is run
Disjoin their wedded hands.
Jefus, avenger of our fall,
Thou faithful lover, above all
The Crofs has ever borne !
Oh tell me,—life is in thy voice--
How much afflictions were thy choice,
And floth and ease thy scorn!
Thy choice and mine shall be the same, Infpirer of that holy flame
Which muft for ever blaze!
To take the Crofs and follow thee,
Where love and duty lead, shall be
My portion and my praise.
WEET tenants of this grove!
Who fing, without defign,
A fong of artless love,
In unifon with mine:
These echoing fhades return
Full many a note of ours,
That wife ones cannot learn,
With all their boafted powers.
O Thou! whofe facred charms
These hearts fo feldom love,
Although thy beauty warms
And bleffes all above;
How flow are human things,
To choose their happiest lot;
All-glorious King of kings,
Say why we love thee not?
This heart, that cannot reft,
Shall thine for ever prove;
Though bleeding and distress'd,
Yet joyful in thy love:
'Tis happy, though it breaks
Beneath thy chastening hand;
And speechless, yet it speaks
What thou canft understand.
TILL, ftill, without ceafing,
I feel it increasing,
This fervour of holy defire;
And often exclaim,
Let me die in the flame
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, fweetly fevere !
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 forrowful wafte
That is to be pass'd
In the way to the Canaan above.
35. THE NECESSITY OF SELF-ABASE
OURCE of love, my brighter fun,
Thou alone my comfort art;
See, my race is almost run;
Haft thou left this trembling heart?
In my youth thy charming eyes
Drew me from the ways of men;
Then I drank unmingled joys;
Frown of thine faw never then.
Spouse of Chrift was then my name;
And devoted all to thee,
Strangely jealous, I became
Jealous of this Self in me.
Thee to love, and none befide,
Was my darling, fole employ;
While alternately I died,
Now of grief, and now of joy.
Through the dark and filent night
On thy radiant smiles I dwelt;
And to fee the dawning light
Was the keenest pain I felt.
Thou my gracious teacher wert;
And thine eye, fo close applied,
While it watch'd thy pupil's heart,
Seem'd to look at none befide.
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