Thy choice and mine shall be the same, Inspirer of that holy flame Which must for ever blaze! To take the Cross and follow thee, JOY IN MARTYRDOM. SWEET tenants of this grove, A song of artless love, In unison with mine: O Thou! whose sacred charms This heart, that cannot rest, Shall thine for ever prove; 'Tis happy, though it breaks SIMPLE TRUST. STILL, still, without ceasing, 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, sweetly severe ! I would make thee appear, Than the bitter I meet, My tender and merciful Lord. This Faith, in the dark Through many sharp trials of Love, That is to be pass'd In the way to the Canaan above. THE NECESSITY OF SELF-ABASEMENT. SOURCE of love, my brighter sun, Thou alone my comfort art; See, my race is almost run; Hast thou left this trembling heart? In my youth thy charming eyes Spouse of Christ was then my name; Thee to love, and none beside, Now of grief, and now of joy. Through the dark and silent night On thy radiant smiles I dwelt; And to see the dawning light Thou my gracious teacher wert; Seem'd to look at none beside. Conscious of no evil drift, But soon humbled, and laid low, Oh the vain conceit of man, Though the Lord is good alone! He the graces thou hast wrought Makes subservient to his pride; Ignorant, that one such thought Passes all his sin beside. Such his folly,-proved, at last, 'Tis by this reproof severe, His defects at last appear, Man is to himself made known. Learn, all Earth! that feeble man, Sprung from this terrestrial clod, Nothing is, and nothing can; Life and power are all in God. LOVE INCREASED BY SUFFERING. "I LOVE the Lord," is still the strain Before the power of Love Divine In all that we survey. In gulfs of aweful night we find "Tis there he stamps the yielding mind, Flames of encircling love invest, And pierce it sweetly through; 'Tis fill'd with sacred joy, yet press'd With sacred sorrow too. Ah Love! my heart is in the right— To thee, it's ever new delight, Fresh causes of distress occur The comforts I to all prefer |