But we that wait upon the Lord
Shall find our strength increase.

The saints shall mount on eagles' wings,
And taste the promis'd bliss,
'Till their unwearied feet arrive
Where perfect pleasure is.

314

MY God, permit me not to be

Portugal.

A stranger to myself and thee;
Amidst a thousand thoughts I rove.
Forgetful of my highest love.

Why should my passions mix with earth,
And thus debase my heavenly birth?
Why should I cleave to things below,
And let my God, my Saviour go?
Call me away from flesh and sense,
One gracious word can draw me thence;
I would obey the voice divine,

Aud all inferior joys resign.

Be earth with all her charms withdrawn,
Let noise and vanity begone;

In holy musings of the mind

I would my God, my heaven find.

315

NNNNNNII

O THAT I knew the secret place
Where I might find my God!

Worksop.

I'd spread my wants before his face,
And pour my woes abroad.

I'd tell him how my sins arise;
What sorrows I sustain ;

How grace decays, and comfort dies,
And leaves my heart in pain.

He knows what arguments I'd take
To wrestle with my God;

I'd plead for his own mercy's sake,
And for my Saviour's blood.
My God will pity my complaints,
And heal my broken bones;
He takes the meaning of his saints,
The language of their groans.
Arise, my soul, from deep distress,
And banish every fear;

He calls thee to his throne of grace,

To spread thy sorrows there.

316

NNNNNNN

Wooburn Abbey.

O FOR a closer walk with God,
A calm and heavenly frame;
A light to shine upon the road,
. That leads me to the lamb!

Where is the blessedness I knew,
When first I saw the Lord?
Where is the soul refreshing view
Of Jesus and his word?

What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their mem❜ry still!

But they have left an aching void,
The world can never fill.

Return, O holy Dove, return,
Sweet messenger of rest!

I hate the sins that made thee mourn,
And drove thee from my breast.

The dearest idol I have known,
Whate'er that idol be,

Help me to tear it from thy throne,
And worship only thee.

So shall my walk be close with God,
Calm and serene my frame;

So purer light shall mark the road,
That leads me to the Lamb.

317

Lambeth.

ENCOMPASS'D with clouds of distress,
Just ready all hope to resign,

I pant for the light of thy face,
And fear it will never be mine:
Dishearten'd with waiting so long,
I sink at thy feet with my load;
All plaintive, I pour out my song,
And stretch forth my hands unto God.

Shine, Lord, and my terror shall cease;
The blood of atonement apply,

And lead me to Jesus for peace,
The rock that is higher than I:

Speak, Saviour, for sweet is thy voice,
Thy presence is fair to behold;
I thirst for thy favour with cries
And groanings which cannot be told,
If sometimes I strive as I mourn,
My hold of thy promise to keep,
The billows more fiercely return,

And plunge me again in the deep;
While harrass'd and cast from thy sight,
The tempter suggests with a roar,
"The Lord hath forsaken thee quite,
Thy God will be gracious no more.”

Yet, Lord, if thy love hath design'd
No covenant blessing for me,

Ah, tell me how is it I find

Some sweetness in waiting for thee? Almighty to rescue thou art;

Thy grace is my only resource, If e'er thou art Lord of my heart, Thy Spirit must take it by force.

318

****** Sutton Colefield.

MY God, my life, my love,

To thee, to thee I call;

I cannot live, if thou remove,
For thou art all in all.

Thy shining grace can cheer
This dungeon where 1 dwell;

'Tis paradise when thou art here If thou depart, 'tis hell.

The smilings of thy face,

How amiable they are!

'Tis heaven to rest in thine embrace,

And no where else but there.

To thee, and thee alone,

The angels owe their bliss;

They sit around thy gracious throne,
And dwell where Jesus is.

Not all the harps above

Can make a heavenly place, If God his residence remove, Or but conceal his face.

To thee my spirits fly

With infinite desire,

And yet how far from thee I lie!

Dear Jesus, raise me higher!

JESUS, lover of my soul,
"Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the raging billows roll,
While the tempest still is high:
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
"Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
O receive my soul at last.

Hotham.