XL. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. My soul is sad, and much dismay'd; See, Lord, what legions of my foes, With fierce Apollyon at their head, My heavenly pilgrimage oppose! See, from the ever burning lake, How like a smoky cloud they rise! Their fiery arrows reach the mark 25, I hate the thought that wrongs the Lord; O! I would drive it from my breast, With thy own sharp two-edged sword, Far as the east is from the west. Come then and chase the cruel host, Heal the deep wounds I have received! XLI. PEACE AFTER A STORM. WHEN darkness long has veil'd my mind, And smiling day once more appears, Then, my Redeemer, then I find The folly of my doubts and fears. 25 Ephes. vi. 16. Straight I upbraid my wandering heart, And blush that I should ever be Thus prone to act so base a part, Or harbour one hard thought of Thee! Oh! let me then at length be taught Sweet truth, and easy to repeat ! Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide. Thou art as ready to forgive Thou, therefore, all the praise receive; XLII. MOURNING AND LONGING. THE Saviour hides his face! My spirit thirsts to prove Renew'd supplies of pardoning grace, And never-fading love. The favour'd souls who know What glories shine in him, Pant for his presence as the roe Pants for the living stream. What trifles tease me now! How dull the Sabbath day, ; How toilsome then to sing and pray, Of all the truths I hear, Yet let me (as I ought) Still hope to be supplied; No pleasure else is worth a thought, Though I am but a worm, Unworthy of his care, The Lord will my desire perform, DEAR Lord! accept a sinful heart, Which of itself complains, And mourns, with much and frequent smart, The evil it contains. There fiery seeds of anger lurk, Which often hurt my frame; And wait but for the tempter's work, To fan them to a flame. Legality holds out a bribe To purchase life from thee; While Unbelief withstands thy grace, How eager are my thoughts to roam But ah! when duty calls them home, Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood, XLIV. PRAYER FOR PATIENCE. LORD, who hast suffer'd all for me, The storm of loud repining hush; I would in humble silence mourn; Why should the unburnt, though burning bush, Be angry as the crackling thorn? Man should not faint at thy rebuke, Like Joshua falling on his face 26, When the cursed thing that Achan took Brought Israel into just disgrace. 26 Joshua vii. 10, 11 Perhaps some golden wedge suppress'd, Self-righteousness, provokes the rod. Mock'd, crown'd with thorns, and spit upon, I yet should have no right to say, My great distress is mine alone. Let me not angrily declare No pain was ever sharp like mine, Nor murmur at the cross I bear, But rather weep, remembering thine. O LORD, my best desire fulfill, And help me to resign Life, health, and comfort to thy will, Why should I shrink at thy command, No, rather let me freely yield Thy favour, all my journey through, |