Many mariners were there,
Having each his separate care;
They that row’d us held their eyes
Fix’d upon the starry skies;
Others steer’d, or turn’d the sails,
To receive the shifting gales.
Love, with power divine supplied,
Suddenly my courage tried;
In a moment it was night,
Ship and skies were out of sight;
On the briny wave I lay,
Floating rushes all my stay.
Did I with resentment burn
At this unexpected turn?
Did I wish myself on shore,
Never to forsake it more?
No— “My soul,” I cried, “be still;
If I must be lost, I will.”
Next he hasten’d to convey
Both my frail supports away;
Seiz’d my rushes; bade the waves
Yawn into a thousand graves:
Down I went, and sunk as lead,
Ocean closing o’er my head.
Still, however, life was safe;
And I saw him turn and laugh:
“Friend,” he cried, “adieu! lie low,
While the wintry storms shall blow;
When the spring has calm’d the main,
You shall rise and float again.”
Soon I saw him, with dismay,
Spread his plumes, and soar away;
Now I mark his rapid flight;
Now he leaves my aching sight;
He is gone whom I adore,
’Tis in vain to seek him more.
How I trembled then and fear’d,
When my love had disappear’d!
“Wilt thou leave me thus,” I cried,
“Whelm’d beneath the rolling tide?”
Vain attempt to reach his ear!
Love was gone, and would not hear.
Ah! return, and love me still;
See me subject to thy will;
Frown with wrath, or smile with grace,
Only let me see thy face!
Evil I have none to fear,
All is good, if thou art near.
Yet he leaves me — cruel fate!
Leaves me in my lost estate —
Have I sinn’d? Oh, say wherein;
Tell me, and forgive my sin!
King, and Lord, whom I adore,
Shall I see thy face no more?
Be not angry; I resign,
Henceforth, all my will to thine:
I consent that thou depart,
Though thine absence breaks my heart;
Go then, and for ever too:
All is right that thou wilt do.
This was just what Love intended;
He was now no more offended;
Soon as I became a child,
Love return’d to me and smiled:
Never strife shall more betide
‘Twixt the bridegroom and his bride.
A Child of God Longing to See Him Beloved
There’s not an echo round me,
But I am glad should learn,
How pure a fire has found me,
The love with which I burn.
For none attends with pleasure
To what I would reveal;
They slight me out of measure,
And laugh at all I feel.
The rocks receive less proudly
The story of my flame;
When I approach, they loudly
Reverberate his name.
I speak to them of sadness,
And comforts at a stand;
They bid me look for gladness,
And better days at hand.
Far from all habitation,
I heard a happy sound;
Big with the consolation,
That I have often found.
I said, “My lot is sorrow,
My grief has no alloy;”
The rocks replied— “To-morrow,
To-morrow brings thee joy.”
These sweet and sacred tidings,
What bliss it is to hear!
For, spite of all my chidings,
My weakness and my fear,
No sooner I receive them,
Than I forget my pain,
And, happy to believe them,
I love as much again.
I fly to scenes romantic,
Where never men resort;
For in an age so frantic
Impiety is sport.
For riot and confusion
They barter things above;
Condemning, as delusion,
The joy of perfect love.
In this sequester’d corner,
None hears what I express;
Deliver’d from the scorner,
What peace do I possess!
Beneath the boughs reclining,
Or roving o’er the wild,
I live as undesigning
And harmless as a child.
No troubles here surprise me,
I innocently play,
While Providence supplies me,
And guards me all the day:
My dear and kind defender
Preserves me safely here,
From men of pomp and splendour,
Who fill a child with fear.
Aspirations of the Soul After God
My Spouse! in whose presence I live,
Sole object of all my desires,
Who know’st what a flame I conceive,
And canst easily double its fires!
How pleasant is all that I meet!
From fear of adversity free,
I find even sorrow made sweet;
Because ’tis assign’d me by thee.
Transported I see thee display
Thy riches and glory divine;
I have only my life to repay,
Take what I would gladly resign.
Thy will is the treasure I seek,
For thou art as faithful as strong;
There let me, obedient and meek,
Repose myself all the day long.
My spirit and faculties fail;
Oh, finish what love has begun!
Destroy what is sinful and frail,
And dwell in the soul thou hast won!
Dear theme of my wonder and praise,
I cry, who is worthy as thou?
I can only be silent and gaze!
’Tis all that is left to me now.
Oh, glory in which I am lost,
Too deep for the plummet of thought;
On an ocean of Deity toss’d,
I am swallow’d, I sink into nought.
Yet, lost and absorb’d as I seem,
I chant to the praise of my King;
And, though overwhelm’d by the theme,
Am happy whenever I sing.
Gratitude and Love to God
All are indebted much to thee,
But I far more than all,
From many a deadly snare set free,
And raised from many a fall.
Overwhelm me, from above,
Daily, with thy boundless love.
What bonds of gratitude I feel
No language can declare;
Beneath the oppressive weight I reel,
’Tis more than I can bear:
When shall I that blessing prove,
To return thee love for love?
Spirit of charity, dispense
Thy grace to every heart;
Expel all other spirits thence,
Drive self from every part;
Charity divine, draw nigh,
Break the chains in which we lie!
All selfish souls, whate’er they feign,
Have still a slavish lot;
They boast of liberty in vain,
Of love, and feel it not.
He whose bosom glows with thee,
He, and he alone, is free.
Oh blessedness, all bliss above,
When th
y pure fires prevail!
Love only teaches what is love:
All other lessons fail:
We learn its name, but not its powers,
Experience only makes it ours.
Happy Solitude — Unhappy Men
My heart is easy, and my burden light;
I smile, though sad, when thou art in my sight:
The more my woes in secret I deplore,
I taste thy goodness, and I love thee more.
There, while a solemn stillness reigns around,
Faith, love, and hope within my soul abound;
And, while the world suppose me lost in care,
The joys of angels, unperceived, I share.
Thy creatures wrong thee, O thou sovereign good!
Thou art not loved, because not understood;
This grieves me most, that vain pursuits beguile
Ungrateful men, regardless of thy smile.
Frail beauty and false honour are adored;
While Thee they scorn, and trifle with thy Word;
Pass, unconcern’d, a Saviour’s sorrows by;
And hunt their ruin with a zeal to die.
Living Water
The fountain in its source,
No drought of summer fears;
The farther it pursues its course,
The nobler it appears.
But shallow cisterns yield
A scanty short suply;
The morning sees them amply fill’d,
At evening they are dry.
Truth and Divine Love Rejected by the World
O love, of pure and heavenly birth!
O simple truth, scarce known on earth!
Whom men resist with stubborn will;
And, more perverse and daring still,
Smother and quench, with reasonings vain,
While error and deception reign.
Whence comes it, that, your power the same
As His on high from whence you came,
Ye rarely find a listening ear,
Or heart that makes you welcome here? —
Because ye bring reproach and pain,
Where’er ye visit, in your train.
The world is proud, and cannot bear
The scorn and calumny ye share;
The praise of men the mark they mean,
They fly the place where ye are seen;
Pure love, with scandal in the rear,
Suits not the vain; it costs too dear.
Then, let the price be what it may,
Though poor, I am prepared to pay;
Come shame, come sorrow; spite of tears,
Weakness, and heart-oppressing fears;
One soul, as least, shall not repine,
To give you room; come, reign in mine!
Divine Justice Amiable
Thou hast no lightnings, O thou Just!
Or I their force should know;
And, if thou strike me into dust,
My soul approves the blow.
The heart, that values less its ease
Than it adores thy ways,
In thine avenging anger sees
A subject of its praise.
Pleased I could lie, conceal’d and lost,
In shades of central night;
Not to avoid thy wrath, thou know’st,
But lest I grieve thy sight.
Smite me, O thou, whom I provoke!
And I will love thee still:
The well deserved and righteous stroke
Shall please me, though it kill.
Am I not worthy to sustain
The worst thou canst devise;
And dare I seek thy throne again,
And meet thy sacred eyes?
Far from afflicting, thou art kind;
And, in my saddest hours,
An unction of thy grace I find,
Pervading all my powers.
Alas! thou sparest me yet again;
And, when thy wrath should move,
Too gentle to endure my pain,
Thou soothest me with thy love.
I have no punishment to fear;
But, ah! that smile from thee
Imparts a pang far more severe
Than woe itself would be.
The Soul That Loves God Finds Him Everywhere
O thou, by long experience tried,
Near whom no grief can long abide;
My love! how full of sweet content
I pass my years of banishment!
All scenes alike engaging prove
To souls impress’d with sacred love!
Where’er they dwell, they dwell in thee;
In heaven, in earth, or on the sea.
To me remains nor place nor time;
My country is in every clime;
I can be calm and free from care
On any shore, since God is there.
While place we seek, or place we shun,
The soul finds happiness in none;
But, with a God to guide our way,
’Tis equal joy to go or stay.
Could I be cast where thou art not,
That were indeed a dreadful lot;
But regions none remote I call,
Secure of finding God in all.
My country, Lord, art thou alone;
Nor other can I claim or own;
The point where all my wishes meet;
My law, my love, life’s only sweet!
I hold by nothing here below;
Appoint my journey and I go;
Though pierced by scorn, oppress’d by pride,
I feel thee good — feel nought beside.
No frowns of men can hurtful prove
To souls on fire with heavenly love;
Though men and devils both condemn,
No gloomy days arise from them.
Ah, then! to his embrace repair;
My soul, thou art no stranger there;
There love divine shall be thy guard,
And peace and safety thy reward.
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 powers
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 dishonour us within,
Farewell the joy we knew;
Again the slaves of nature’s sway,
In labyrinths 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.
Oh, messenger of dear delight,
Whose voice dispels the deepest night,
Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove!
With thee at hand, to soothe 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 forgoes its nature there,
And life assumes a tranquil air,
Divested of its woes;
There sovereign goodness soothes the breast,
Till then incapable of rest,
In sacred sure repose.
Divin
e Love Endures No Rival
Love is the Lord whom I obey,
Whose will transported I perform;
The centre of my rest, my stay,
Love’s all in all to me, myself a worm.
For uncreated charms I burn,
Oppress’d by slavish fear no more,
For One in whom I may discern,
E’en when he frowns, a sweetness I adore.
He little loves him who complains,
And finds him rigorous and severe;
His heart is sordid, and he feigns,
Though loud in boasting of a soul sincere.
Love causes grief, but ’tis to move
And stimulate the slumbering mind;
And he has never tasted love
Who shuns a plan so graciously design’d.
Sweet is the cross, above all sweets,
To souls enamour’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 loved, the Lord is not.
The love of thee flows just as much
As that of ebbing self subsides;
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 despised a guest.
Self-diffidence
Source of love, and light of day,
Tear me from myself away;
Every view and thought of mine
Cast into the mould of thine;
Teach, O teach this faithless heart
A consistent constant part;
Or, if it must live to grow
William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works Page 66
