Page images

Suffer not sorrow's flood
To overwhelm my heart;
For they are bleft with Thee,
Their race and conflict won:
Let me but follow them;

My Lord, Thy will be done!

My Jesus, as Thou wilt!

When death itself draws nigh,
To thy dear wounded fide
I would for refuge fly.
Leaning on Thee, to go

Where Thou before haft gone;
The reft as Thou fhalt please.
My Lord, Thy will be done!

My Jesus, as Thou wilt!

All fhall be well for me:
Each changing future scene,
I gladly truft with Thee.
Straight to my home above
I travel calmly on,
And fing, in life or death,
My Lord, Thy will be done!

B. Schmolk.



ONG plunged in sorrow, I refign

My soul to that dear hand of Thine,
Without reserve or fear;

That hand fhall wipe my ftreaming eyes,
Or into smiles of glad surprise,
Transform the falling tear!

My sole poffeffion is Thy love:
In earth beneath, or heaven above,
I have no other store:
And though with fervent suit I pray,
And importune thee night and day,
I ask thee nothing more.

My hours with undiminished force
And speed pursue their deftined course,
Obedient to Thy will:

Nor would I murmur at my doom,
Though ftill a sufferer from the womb,
And doomed to suffer ftill.

By Thy command, where'er I stray,
Sorrow attends me all my way,

A never failing friend;

And if my sufferings may augment
Thy praise, behold me well content
Let sorrow still attend!

It costs me no regret, that she
Who followed Chrift fhould follow me;
And though, where'er she goes,
Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet,
I love her, and extract a sweet

From all my bitter woes.

Mad. Guyon.


YOURAGE, my sorely-tempted heart!


Break through thy woes, forget their smart ;

Come forth and on thy Bridegroom gaze;

The Lamb of God, the Fount of grace:

Here is thy place!

His arms are open, thither flee!

There reft and peace are waiting thee,
The deathless crown of righteousness,

The entrance to eternal blifs:

He gives thee this!

Then combat well, of nought afraid,
For thus His follower thou art made,

Each battle teaches thee to fight,

Each foe to be a braver knight,

Armed with His might.

If ftorms of fierce temptation rise,
Unmoved we'll face the frowning skies;
If but the heart is true indeed,
Chrift will be with us in our need,-

His own could bleed.

The word hath ftill its glorious powers,
The nobleft chivalry is ours;

O Thou, for whom to die is gain,
I bring Thee here my all, oh deign

To accept and reign!

7. H. Bohmer. 1704.


OW darkness over all is spread,


No sounds the stillness break;

Ah when fhall these sad hours be fled:
Am I alone awake?

Ah no, I do not wake alone,

Alone I do not sleep,

Around me ever watcheth One

Who wakes with those who weep.

On earth it is so dark and drear,
With Him so calm and bright;
The ftars, in solemn radiance clear,
Shine there through all our night.

'Tis when the lights of earth are gone
The heavenly glories shine;
When other comfort I have none,
Thy comfort, Lord, is mine.

Be ftill, my throbbing heart, be ftill;
Caft off thy weary load,

And make His holy will thy will,

And rest upon thy God.

How many a time the night hath come,
Yet ftill return'd the day;

How many a time thy cross, thy gloom,
Ere now hath paff'd away.

And these dark hours of anxious pain
That now oppress me sore,

I know will vanish soon again,
Then I fhall fear no more:

For when the night hath lafted long,
We know the morn is near;

And when the trial 's fharp and strong,

Our Help fhall soon appear.

Paftor Josephsen.

« PreviousContinue »