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For as thou dost impart thy grace,
The greater shall our glorie be. The measure of our joyes is in this place,
The stuffe with thee.
Let me not languish, then, and spend
A life as barren to thy praise As is the dust, to which that life doth tend,
But with delaies.
All things are busie ; only I
Neither bring hony with the bees, Nor flowres to make that, nor the husbandrie
To water these.
I am no link of thy great chain,
But all my companie is a weed. Lord, place me in thy consort ; give one strain
To my poore reed.
THE NEW JERUSALEM.
O MOTHER dear, Jerusalem,
When shall I come to thee?
Thy joys when shall I see ?
O sweet and pleasant soil !
Nor grief, nor care, nor toil.
Nor gloom, nor darksome night;
For God himself gives light. Thy walls are made of precious stone,
Thy bulwarks diamond-square,
O God ! if I were there!
Thy joys when shall I see ? —
And thy felicity ?
POEMS OF RELIGION.
MY GOD, I LOVE THEE.
My God, I love thee! not because
I hope for heaven thereby ;
Must burn eternally.
Upon the cross embrace !
And manifold disgrace.
And griefs and torments numberless,
And sweat of agony,
That was thine enemy.
Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ,
Should I not love thee well ?
Nor of escaping hell !
Not seeking a reward ;
O everlasting Lord !
E'en so I love thee, and will lore,
And in thy praise will sing,
of EDWARD CASWELL.
IF as a flowre doth spread and die,
Thou wouldst extend me to some good,
Nipt in the bud,
But the extension and the room
At thy great doom.
Thy gardens and thy goodly walks
Continually are green, Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen.
Quite through the streets with pleasing sound
The flood of life doth flow ; And on the banks, on every side,
The trees of life do grow.
These trees each month yield ripened fruit ;
Forevermore they spring,
To thee their honors bring.
Jerusalem, God's dwelling-place
Full sore I long to see ; O that my sorrows had an end,
That I might dwell in thee !
I long to see Jerusalem,
The comfort of us all ; For thou art fair and beautiful, –
None ill can thee befall.
No candle needs, no moon to shine,
No glittering star to light; For Christ the King of Righteousness
Forever shineth bright.
DARKNESS IS THINNING.
DARKNESS is thinning; shadows are retreating;
God the Almighty !
Glory hereafter !
This of his mercy, ever-blesséd Godhead,
Blessing and glory!
of J. M. NEALE.
I LOVE, AND HAVE SOME CAUSE
I LOVE, and have some cause to love, the earth,
She is my Maker's creature, therefore good;
She is my tender nurse, she gives me food :
My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me;
0, passing happy were my state,
Might I be worthy found
His praises there to sound !
Jerusalem! Jerusalem !
Thy joys fain would I see ;
DROP, DROP, SLOW TEARS.
I love the sea,
she is my fellow-creature,
She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore :
What is the ocean or her wealth to me!
Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye, –
Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky:
DROP, drop, slow tears,
And bathe those beauteous feet
The news and prince of peace !
His mercies to entreat ;
Sin doth never cease ;
Drown all my faults and fears ;
See sin but through my tears.
Without thy presence, earth gives no refection,
Without thy presence, sea affords no treasure ; Without thy presence, air 's a rank infectien; Without thy presence, heaven 's itsef no
If not possessed, if not enjoyed in thee,
What's earth, or sea, or air, or heaven to me? The highest honors that the world can boast
Are subjects far too low for my desire ;
But dying sparkles of thy living fire ;
But nightly glow-worms if compared to thee. Without thy presence, wealth is bags of cares ;
Wisdom but folly ; joy, disquiet, sadness ; Friendship is treason, and delights are snares ; Pleasures but pain, and mirth but pleasing
madness, Without thee, Lord, things be not what they be,
Nor have their being, when compared with thee. In having all things, and not thee, what have I ?
Not having thee, what have my labors got? Let me enjoy but thee, what further crave I ?
And having thee alone, what have I not?
TWO WENT UP TO THE TEMPLE TO
Two went to pray? O, rather say,
One nearer to God's altar trod,
The silly lambs to-day
As near to sorrow;
Be sadly ended,
Can ne'er be mended.
What is the time that's gone,
The present stays not.
Over the silver mountains
Is it to quit the dish
Of flesh, yet still
The platter high with fish?
Is it to fast an hour,
Or ragged to go,
A downcast look, and sour?
No! 't is a fast to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat,
Unto the hungry soul.
It is to fast from strife,
From old debate
And hate, -
To circumcise thy life.
To show a heart grief-rent;
To starve thy sin,
And that's to keep thy lent.
I WOULD I WERE AN EXCELLENT
I would I were an excellent divine
That had the Bible at my fingers' ends ;
That men might hear out of this mouth of mine Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder !
How God doth make his enemies his friends ; Thou giv'st salvation even for alms,
Rather than with a thundering and long prayer
Be led into presumption, or despair.
But a religious servant of my God;
And know there is none other God but he, Just at the stroke when my veins start and And willingly to suffer mercy's rod, spread,
Joy in his grace, and live but in his love,
And seek my bliss but in the world above.
Nor servile fear might faithful love deface ;
SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
A TRUE LENT.
Is this a fast, – to keep
The larder lean,
And I would read the rules of sacred life ;
Persuade the troubled soul to patience ;
To child and servant due obedience ;
Prayer for the health of all that are diseased, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Confession unto all that are convicted, Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, And patience unto all that are displeased, That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend,
And comfort unto all that are afflicted, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Witness if I be silent, mor or even,
Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still
Have gathered aught of evil, or concealed, THESE are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. Almighty, thine this universal frame,
That I can raise ;
Mend my estate in any wayes, And choral symphonies, day without night,
Thou shalt have more. Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven, On earth join, all ye creatures, to extol
I go to church ; help me to wings, and I Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Will thither flie; Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,
Or, if I mount unto the skie, If better thou belong not to the dawn,
I will do more. Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling
Man is all weaknesse : there is no such thing With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere,
As Prince or King : While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
His arm is short; yet with a sling Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul,
He may do more.
A herb destilled, and drunk, maydwell next doore,
On the same floore, And when high noon hast gained, and when thou
To a brave soul : Exalt the poore, fall'st. Moon, that now meets the orient sun, now fliest,
They can do more. With the fixed stars, fixed in their orb that flies, o, raise me then ! poore bees, that work all day, And ye five other wandering fires that move
Sting my delay, In mystic dance not without song, resound
Who have a work, as well as they, His praise, who out of darkness called up light.
And much, much more.
Does the road wind up hill all the way ?
Yes, to the very end. Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
Will the day's journey take the whole long day! In honor to the world's great Author rise,
From morn to night, my friend.
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin! His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, May not the darkness hide it from my face ? Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye You cannot miss that inn.
pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Shall I meet other wayfarers at night ? Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow,
Those who have gone before.