« ПредишнаНапред »
Before the throne of glory
In thy stead: I'll put into thy story
What I did.
sad soul, and see Thy Saviour here. Lo, I am he.
Alas! shall I present
My sinfulness To thee? thou wilt resent
The loathsomeness. Be not afraid, I'll take
Thy Sins on me, And all my favour make
To shine on thee.
Lord, what thou'lt have me, thou must make me. As I have made thee now, I take thee.
RESOLUTION AND ASSURANCE.
LORD, thou wilt love me. Wilt thou not?
Beshrew that not:
It was my sin begot
Thy blood was spilt
To wash away my guilt,
Beshrew that not.
'Twas death's accursed plot To put that question ; Yes, I will,
Lord, love thee still,
In spite of all my ill.
We shall, and will,
We love our fill,
VOWS BROKEN AND RENEWED.
SAID I not so, that I would sin no more?
Witness my God, I did ; Yet I am run again upon the score : My faults cannot be hid.
What shall I do? Make vows, and break them still?
'Twill be but labour lost? My good cannot prevail against mine ill :
The business will be crost.
O, say not so: thou canst not tell what strength
Thy God may give thee at the length : Renew thy vows, and if thou keep the last,
Thy God will pardon all that's past. Vow, whilst thou canst; while thou canst vow, thou may'st Perhaps perform it, when thou thinkest least.
Thy God hath not denied thee all,
Thy vows; and if thou break them, weep.
Then once again
Lord, say Amen,
O How my mind
Not a thought, That I can find,
All to naught. Short ends of threads,
And narrow shreds
Of lists, Knot snarlèd ruffs,
Loose broken tufts
Of twists, Are my torn meditation’s ragged clothing, Which, wound and woven shape a suit for nothing : One while I think, and then I am in pain To think how to unthink that thought again.
How can my soul
With this food? Pleasure's full bowl
Taints the blood. Profit picks bones,
And chews. on stones
That choke : Honour climbs hills,
Fats not, but fills
Clothe me, anew, and feed me then afresh ;
my soul dies famish'd, and starved with flesh..
,' gnarled ruffs,' &c. : old pieces of dress.-- Ramish :' what is called in Scotland wergh,' i. e., tasteless.
Come, my Joy, my Lore, my E Such a Jos, as none can move Such a Lore, as none can part Such a Heart, as joys in love.
CLASPING OP HAN
Lenn, se at mine, and I am Emine I am: and thine much "Than lams, o can be mi Tette slime, doth me resta Stat a I now am mine, Ang wadadirsange mine the Snee tas heng mime, brings
Tom. I am sime, and thou art
Imay resume the mine, that For me this suffer to restore Sudes lume, and to bem