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Did like some tottering engine show :
Thy hand above did burn and glow, Daunting the stoutest hearts, the proudest wits.
But now that Christ's pure veil presents the sight,
I see no fears :
Thy hand is white,
And interchangeably descend,
For where before thou still didst call on me,
Now I still touch
And harp on thee.
Why should I justice now decline?
CXIII. THE PILGRIMAGE.
I TRAVELL'D on, seeing the hill, where lay
The gloomy cave of Desperation
The rock of Pride.
And so I came to fancy's meadow strow'd
With many a flower :
So to care's copse I came, and there got through
With much ado.
That led me to the wild of passion; which
Some call the world ;
Here I was robb’d of all my gold,
Close to my side.
At length I got unto the gladsome hill,
Where lay my hope, Where lay my heart; and climbing still,
When I had gain’d the brow and top, A lake of brackish waters on the ground
Was all I found.
With that abash'd and struck with many a sting
Of swarming fears,
Can both the way and end be tears?
I was deceived :
My hill was further : so I flung away,
Yet heard a cry
way And lives : If that be all, said I, After so foul a journey death is fair,
And but a chair.
CXIV. THE HOLD-FAST.
I THREATEN'D observe the strict decree
and might: But I was told by one, it could not be ; Yet I might trust in God to be my light.
Then will I trust, said I, in him alone.
Nay, e'en to trust in him, was also his :
We must confess, that nothing is our own. Then I confess that he my succour is :
But to have nought is ours, not to confess
That we have nought. I stood amazed at this,
Much troubled, till I heard a friend express, That all things were more ours by being his.
What Adam had, and forfeited for all,
Do not beguile my heart,
Because thou art
Because I am
Thou art the Lord of glory;
The deed and story
That live or die,
Art thou all justice, Lord ?
Shows not thy word
To weep or cry?
Let not thy wrathful power
Afflict my hour,
Contract my hour,
CXVI. THE DISCHARGE.
Busy enquiring heart, what wouldst thou know?
Why dost thou pry,
Look high and low ;
Hast thou not made thy counts, and summ’d up all ?
Did not thy heart
Let what will fall :
Thy life is God's, thy time to come is gone,
And is his right.
Thy noon alone.
And well it was for thee, when this befell,
That God did make
For thou canst tell,
Only the present is thy part and fee.
And happy thou,
Thou couldst well see
They ask enough; why shouldst thou further go?
Raise not the mud
Dig not for woe
Man and the present fit: if he provide,
He breaks the square.
grow too wide, And do encroach upon
death's side :
For death each hour environs and surrounds.
He that would know
Unto those grounds,