Though tempest-tost and half a wreck,
My Saviour through the floods I seek;
Let neither winds nor stormy main
Force back my shattered bark again.

XXXIX. LOOKING UPWARDS IN A STORM

GOD of my life, to thee I call,
Afflicted at thy feet I fall;

When the great water-floods prevail
Leave not my trembling heart to fail!

Friend of the friendless and the faint,
Where should I lodge my deep complaint?
Where but with thee whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor!

Did ever mourner plead with thee,
And thou refuse that mourner's plea ?
Does not the word still fixed remain,
That none shall seek thy face in vain?

That were a grief I could not bear,
Didst thou not hear and answer prayer;
But a prayer-hearing, answering God
Supports me under every load.

Fair is the lot that's cast for me;
I have an Advocate with thee;
They whom the world caresses most
Have no such privilege to boast.

Poor though I am, despised, forgot,
Yet God, my God, forgets me not:
And he is safe, and must succeed,
For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead.

XL. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH

My soul is sad, and much dismayed;
See, Lord, what legions of my foes,
With fierce Apollyon at their head,
My heavenly pilgrimage oppose !

See, from the ever-burning lake,
How like a smoky cloud they rise!
With horrid blasts my soul they shake,
With storms of blasphemies and lies.

Their fiery arrows reach the mark,
My throbbing heart with anguish tear;
Each lights upon a kindred spark,
And finds abundant fuel there.

I hate the thought that wrongs the Lord;
Oh! I would drive it from my breast,
With thy own sharp two-edged sword,
Far as the east is from the west.

Come, then, and chase the cruel host,
Heal the deep wounds I have received!
Nor let the powers of darkness boast
That I am foiled, and thou art grieved!

XLI. PEACE AFTER A STORM

WHEN darkness long has veiled my mind, And smiling day once more appears,

Then, my Redeemer, then I find

The folly of my doubts and fears.

Straight I upbraid my wandering heart,
And blush that I should ever be
Thus prone to act so base a part,

Or harbour one hard thought of thee.

Oh! let me then at length be taught
What I am still so slow to learn;
That God is Love, and changes not,
Nor knows the shadow of a turn.

Sweet truth, and easy to repeat!
But when my faith is sharply tried,
I find myself a learner yet,
Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide.

But, O my Lord, one look from thee
Subdues the disobedient will,
Drives doubt and discontent away,
And thy rebellious worm is still.

Thou art as ready to forgive

As I am ready to repine;

Thou, therefore, all the praise receive; Be shame and self-abhorrence mine.

XLII. MOURNING AND LONGING

THE Saviour hides his face!
My spirit thirsts to prove

Renewed supplies of pardoning grace,
And never-fading love.

The favoured souls who know What glories shine in him Pant for his presence as the roe Pants for the living stream.

What trifles tease me now! They swarm like summer flies; They cleave to everything I do, And swim before my eyes.

How dull the Sabbath day Without the Sabbath's Lord! How toilsome then to sing and pray, And wait upon the word!

Of all the truths I hear
How few delight my taste!
I glean a berry here and there,
But mourn the vintage past.

Yet let me (as I ought)
Still hope to be supplied;

No pleasure else is worth a thought,
Nor shall I be denied.

Though I am but a worm,
Unworthy of his care,

The Lord will my desire perform,
And grant me all my prayer.

XLIII. SELF-ACQUAINTANCE

DEAR Lord! accept a sinful heart
Which of itself complains,

And mourns, with much and frequent smart,
The evil it contains.

The storm of loud repining hush;

I would in humble silence mourn; Why should the unburnt, though burning bush, Be angry as the crackling thorn?

Man should not faint at thy rebuke,
Like Joshua falling on his face,
When the cursed thing that Achan took
Brought Israel into just disgrace.

Perhaps some golden wedge suppressed,
Some secret sin, offends my God;
Perhaps that Babylonish vest,
Self-righteousness, provokes the rod.

Ah! were I buffeted all day,

Mocked, crowned with thorns, and spit upon, I yet should have no right to say My great distress is mine alone.

Let me not angrily declare

No pain was ever sharp like mine,

Nor murmur at the cross I bear,

But rather weep, remembering thine.

XLV. SUBMISSION

O LORD, my best desire fulfil,

And help me to resign

Life, health, and comfort to thy will,
And make thy pleasure mine.

Why should I shrink at thy command,
Whose love forbids my fears?
Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my tears?

No, rather let me freely yield
What most I prize to thee;
Who never hast a good withheld,
Or wilt withhold, from me.

Thy favour, all my journey through,
Thou art engaged to grant;
What else I want, or think I do,
'Tis better still to want.