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The hand that gave it still supplies
His truths upon the nations rise,
Let everlasting thanks be thine,
My soul rejoices to pursue
The steps of him I love,
In brighter worlds above.
XXXI. ON THE DEATH OF A MINISTER.
His master taken from his head, Elisha saw him go;
But he forgot the Lord who lifts
The beggar to the throne;
Will soon be made his own.
What! when a Paul has run his course,
Or when Apollos dies,
And have we no supplies?
Yes, while the dear Redeemer lives, We have a boundless store,
And shall be fed with what he gives, Who lives for evermore.
XXXII. THE SHINING LIGHT.
Mr former hopes are fled, My terror now begins;
Ah, whither shall I fly!
I hear the thunder roar;
When I review my ways,
But sure a friendly whisper says,
I see, or think I see,
A glimmering from afar;A beam of day, that shines for me, To save me from despair.
Forerunner of the sun,1
It marks the Pilgrim's way;
I'll gaze upon it while I run, And watch the rising day.
L cxxx. 6.
XXXIII. SEEKING THE BELOVED.
To those who know the Lord, I speak, Is my beloved near? The bridegroom of my soul I seek, Oh! when will he appear?
Though once a man of grief and shame,
Yet now he fills a throne,
That earth or heaven have known.
Grace flies before, and love attends
His steps where'er he goes; Though none can see him but his friends,
And they were once his foes.
He speaks—obedient to his call
Our warm affections move: Did he but shine alike on all,
Then all alike would love.
Then love in every heart would reign, And war would cease to roar;
Would thirst for blood no more.
Such Jesus is, and such his grace,
Oh, may he shine on you!
I long to see him too.1
i Cant. v. 8. VOL. III. 4
XXXIV. LIGHT SHINING OUT OF DARKNESS.
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
And works his sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,
Are big with mercy, and shall break
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,1
1 John xiii. 7.
XXXV. WELCOME CROSS.
'Tis my happiness below,
Not to live without the cross, But the Saviour's power to know,
Sanctifying every loss: Trials must and will befall;
But with humble faith to see Love inscribed upon them all,
This is happiness to me.
God in Israel sows the seeds
Of affliction, pain, and toil; These spring up and choke the weeds
Which would else o'erspread the soil: Trials make the promise sweet,
Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to his feet,
Lay me low, and keep me there.
Did I meet no trials here,
No chastisement by the way: Might I not, with reason, fear
I should prove a cast-away. Bastards may escape the rod,1
Sunk in earthly vain delight; But the true-born child of God
Must not, would not, if he might.
1 Hebrews xii. 8.