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DEVOTION.
Good God, when them thy inward grace dost shower
Into my breast,
How full of light and lively power
Is then my soul!
How am I blest!
How can I then all difficulties devour!
Thy might,
Thy spright,
With ease my cumbrous enemy control.
If thou once turn away thy face and hide
Thy cheerful look,
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My feeble flesh may not |
abide |
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That dreadful stound; hour. |
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I cannot brook |
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| Thy |
absence. My heart, with
Doth fail,
Doth quail; |
care and grief then gride, |
My life steals from me at that hidden wound.
My fancy's then a burden to my mind;
Mine anxious thought
Betrays my reason, makes me blind;
Near dangers drad dreaded.
Make me distraught;
Surprised with fear my senses all I find:
In hell
I dwell,
Oppressed with horror, pain, and sorrow sad.
My former resolutions all are fled--
Slipped over my tongue;
My faith, my hope, and joy are dead.
Assist my heart,
Rather than my song,
My God, my Saviour! When I'm ill-bested.
Stand by,
And I
Shall bear with courage undeservéd smart.
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