The calm retreat, the silent shade, There if thy Spirit touch the soul, Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love, 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, 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. XLVII. THE HIDDEN LIFE. To tell the Saviour all my wants, Nor less to praise him when he grants My labouring spirit vainly seeks With how much tenderness he speaks, Nor were it wise, nor should I choose, Like precious wines their taste they lose, But this with boldness I proclaim, 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; XLVIII. JOY AND PEACE IN BELIEVING. SOMETIMES 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 In holy contemplation, We sweetly then pursue And find it ever new; It can bring with it nothing, Though vine nor fig tree neither 2 Yet God the same abiding, His praise shall tune my voice; I cannot but rejoice. 1 Matthew vi. 34. 2 Habakkuk iii. 17, 18. XLIX. TRUE PLEASURES. LORD, my soul with pleasure springs And when God the Spirit brings Still delighted I perceive; Clothed in sanctity and grace, Those who love thee as they pass, What we owe to love divine; Those the comforts I possess, Which God shall still increase, All his ways are pleasantness,1 And all his paths are peace. 1 Prov. iii. 17. VOL. III. 5 2 Matt. xi. 30. L. THE CHRISTIAN. HONOUR 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! A kingly character he bears, No change his priestly office knows; His joys can never reach a close. Nor stoops to take applause from earth; My soul is ravish'd at the thought! And shout him welcome to the skies! |