THE TESTIMONY OF DIVINE ADOPTION.
THE TESTIMONY OF DIVINE ADOPTION.
HOW happy are the new-born race,
Partakers of adopting grace!
How pure the bliss they share!
Hid from the world and all its eyes,
Within their heart the blessing lies,
And conscience feels it there.
The moment we believe, 'tis ours;
And if we love with all our pow'rs
The God from whom it came,
And if we serve with hearts sincere,
'Tis still discernible and clear,
An undisputed claim.
But ah! if foul and wilful sin
Stain and dishonor us within,
Farewell the joy we knew;
Again the slaves of Nature's sway,
In lab'rinths of our own we stray,
Without a guide or clue.
The chaste and pure, who fear to grieve
The gracious Spirit they receive,
His work distinctly trace;
And strong in undissembling love,
Boldly assert, and clearly prove,
Their hearts his dwelling place.
DIVINE LOVE ENDURES NO RIVAL.
Oh! messenger of dear delight,
Whose voice dispels the deepest night,
Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove!
With thee at hand to sooth our pains,
No wish unsatisfied remains,
No task, but that of Love.
'Tis Love unites what Sin divides;
The centre where all bliss resides,
To which the soul once brought,
Reclining on the first great Cause,
From his abounding sweetness draws
Peace passing human thought.
Sorrow foregoes its nature there,
And life assumes a tranquil air,
Divested of its woes;
There, sov'reign goodness soothes the breast,
Till then, incapable of rest,
DIVINE LOVE ENDURES NO RIVAL.
Vol. 2, Cantique 155.
LOVE is the Lord whom I obey,
Whose will transported I perform,
The centre of my rest, my stay,
Love all in all to me, myself a worm.
For uncreated charms I burn,
Oppress'd by slavish fear no more:
DIVINE LOVE ENDURES NO RIVAL.
For one, in whom I may discern,
Ev'n when he frowns, a sweetness I adore.
He little loves Him, who complains,
And finds Him rig'rous and severe;
His heart is sordid, and he feigns,
Though full of guile, a soul sincere.
Love causes grief, but 'tis to move
And stimulate the slum'bring mind;
And he has never tasted Love,
Who shuns a pang so graciously design'd.
Sweet is the cross, above all sweets,
To souls enamor'd with thy smiles;
The keenest woe life ever meets,
Love strips of all its terrors, and beguiles.
Tis just, that God should not be dear,
Where self engrosses all the thought,
And groans and murmurs make it clear,
Whatever else is lov'd, the Lord is not.
The love of Thee flows just as much
As that of ebbing Self sudsides;
Our hearts, their scantiness is such,
Bear not the conflict of two rival tides.
Both cannot govern in one soul;
Then let self-love be dispossess'd;
The Love of God deserves the whole,
And will not dwell with so despis'd a guest.
Vol. 2, Cantique 125.
SOURCE of love, and light of day,
Tear me from myself away;
Ev'ry view and thought of mine,
Cast into the mould of thine;
Teach, Oh! teach this faithless heart
A consistent, constant part;
Or, if it must live to grow
More rebellious, break it now!
Is it thus, that I requite
Grace and goodness infinite?
Ev'ry trace of ev'ry boon,
Cancell'd, and eras'd, so soon!
Can I grieve thee, whom I love;
Thee, in whom I live and move?
If my sorrow touch thee still,
Save me from so great an ill!
Oh! th' oppressive, irksome weight,
Felt in an uncertain state;
Comfort, peace, and rest, adieu,
Should I prove at last untrue!
Still I choose thee, follow still
Ev'ry notice of thy will;
But unstable, strangely weak,
Still let slip the good I seek.
Self-confiding wretch, I thought,
I could serve thee as I ought,
THE ACQUIESENCE OF PURE LOVE.
Win thee, and deserve to feel
All the love thou canst reveal!
Trusting self, a bruised reed,
Is to be deceiv'd indeed;
Save me from this harm and loss,
Lest my gold turn all to dross!
Self is earthly-Faith alone
Makes an unseen world our own;
Faith relinquish'd, how we roam,
Feel our way, and leave our home!
Spurious Gems our hopes entice,
While we scorn the pearl of price;
And preferring servant's pay,
Cast the children's bread away!
THE ACQUIESENCE OF PURE LOVE.
LOVE, if thy destin'd sacrifice am I ;
Come, slay thy victim, and prepare thy fires;
Plung'd in thy depths of mercy, let me die
The death, which ev'ry soul that lives, desires!
I watch my hours, and see them fleet away;
The time is long, that I have languish'd here;
Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey,
With no reluctance, cheerful and sincere.
To me 'tis equal, whether Love ordain
My life or death, appoint me pain or ease:
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