A THOUGHT ON THE SEA SHORE.
SEE, with awe, the mighty ocean
Spread its waters far and wide,
All its waves in ceaseless motion,
Bearing on the rolling tide;
And when the vast deep you view,
Think of God's great love for you.
Love that is for ever flowing,
Pouring mercies all around;
Neither change nor limit knowing,
Broad and deep, without a bound;
When that swelling sea you view,
Think of God's great love for you.
Love that pardons your transgressions,
Love that bears you on its breast;
Wafts you safe from all oppressions,
To the land of endless rest.
With that haven full in view,
Think of God's great love for you.
My grovelling spirit, Lord, in mercy raise,
Let holy objects to my heart be given,
That faith may mingled be with prayer and praise,
And all my earthly ends with hopes of heaven.
Let me behold thy hand in life and death,
Where'er abroad my wandering feet may rove,
Gratefully serve Thee till my latest breath,
And love Thee with an everlasting love.
O FOR a faith as firm, unmoved,
As his, "the friend of God,"
Who, firmly with the child he loved,
Moriah's mountain trod;
And bound his son, and raised his hand,
Obedient to his Lord's command.
Or his, Arabia's tempted son,
Oppressed with many a woe;
His children dead, his riches gone,
In pain and sickness low;
From whose pale lips in anguish burst,
"Though He should slay me, Him I'll trust."
But Lord, to me thy wayward child,
Still prone to choose the wrong,
With guilty thoughts and words defiled,
Do such high things belong?
Yea, is it not deep pride of heart
Which bids such lofty wishes start?
The lowly things of thy blest word
Are fitter far for me;
And there, the humblest prayer preferr'd
Was heard and mark'd by Thee:
Both, "if thou canst," and, "if thou wilt,"
Were granted, though on doubting built.
Thou art unchanged-thy gracious ear,
Attends the cry of grief;
"Lord I believe"-oh, deign to hear!
Help thou mine unbelief:”
I know I know thou will not spurn
One who before thy cross would mourn.
Increase my weak, my wavering faith,
Fix it on Thee alone;
Lead me to conquer sin and death,
And foes to me unknown;
Feeble and faint my cry may be,
Yet, Lord, I still would cling to Thee.
SOFT slumbers now my eyes forsake,
My powers are all renewed;
May my freed spirit too awake,
With heavenly strength endued!
Think, O my soul, could dying men,
One lavished hour retrieve,
Though spent in tears, and passed in pain,
What treasures would they give?
But seas of pearl, and mines of gold,
Were offered then in vain ;
Their pearl of countless price is lost,
And where's the promised gain?
Lord! teach me now the good to prize
I dying shall esteem;
And every pleasure to despise
I then shall worthless deem!
"O my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, thy will be done."-Matt. xxvi. 42.
Is there no way but this, most gracious Lord?
Must every earthly tie thus sever'd be,
Or twined around with thorns? Is there no spot
Whereon my wearied spirit may repose,
My wounded heart, in sweet affection's balm
Be steep'd awhile, ere its last pulse shall throb?
Thou knowest, Lord-and thou alone canst know—
The inward depths of that deceitful font,
Where many a sin lies sleeping but not dead.
Then let me humbly bend my will to thine,
My righteous Lord, my Father, and my God.
If through this dreary world
Thou seest it meet that I should struggle on
In loneliness of spirit, still unsoothed
By human love, uncheer'd by earthly hope,-
O deign to let thy Spirit dwell with me,
Shewing me evermore thy hand of love!
Thou knowest, Lord, my heart's deep bitterness-
Its griefs, its sins, its struggles, all thou seest.
In utter helplessness to Thee I come,
O, my Saviour, aid me now;
Let the full sense of thy unchanging love
Rest on my spirit with abiding power:
That so my yearning heart, cleaving to Thee,
May never pine for that which thou deniest.
Give me thy peace-that satisfying peace
Which Thou alone canst give, but given,
No power can take away-sinful and weak,
Unworthy of the least of thy rich mercies,
Still would I cast myself on Thee for all.
OH! tell me not of earthly joys,
Seek not to chain my spirit here;
My wealth transcends these gaudy toys,
My home is in a higher sphere.
I cannot stay to cull the flowers,
The fading flowers of guilty earth,
Nor banquet in the sinful bowers
Of indolence and godless mirth.
The Pilgrim's staff, the Pilgrim's scrip,
Support and feed me as I go:
In the pure waves I bathe my lip,
From yonder smitten rock which flow.
Then marvel not, I cannot stay,
To drink of earth's polluted streams, These fountains nerve me for my way, And Bethlehem's star, my pole-star gleams.
I go to join the loved, the lost,-
Not lost, not lost, but gone before;
I go to join the heavenly host
Encamped on Jordan's further shore.
The Father of the faithful there
Waits to embrace his ransomed son,
And saints and angels songs prepare
To greet me when my journey's done.
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