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CXCVI.

By the red lightning rent and riven,
And stretch'd along the plain,
Can the tall oak extend to heaven
Its gay green boughs again?
Or when a star hath lost its track,
And faded from on high,

Can aught restore the lost one back
To glory and the sky?

No: the tall oak no more can spread
Its green leaves to the blast,
Nor can the meteor which hath fled,
Recall its splendours past.

But man, deep sunk in guilty care,
And pressed by human ill,

Can triumph o'er his dark despair,
And find a solace still.

Yes! He who for our ransom bled,
Holds back the avenging rod,
When meek contrition bows her head
Repenting to her God.

Though dark the sin-though deep the heart

Be sunk in guilt and pain,

Yet Mercy can a balm impart,
And raise it up again.

CXCVII.

SUPREME High-Priest, the pilgrim's light,
My heart for Thee prepare;
Thine image stamp, and deeply write
Thy superscription there:

Ah, let my forehead bear thy seal,

My arm thy badge retain,

My heart the inward witness feel
That I am born again!

Into thy humble mansion come,
Set up thy dwelling here:
Possess my heart, and leave no room,
For sin to harbour there:

Ah, give me, Lord, the single eye,
Which aims at nought but Thee:
I fain would live, and yet not I,
But Jesus live in me.

O that the penetrating sight

And eagle's eyes were mine!
Undazzled at the boundless light
Of Majesty divine;

That with the armies of the sky
I, too, may sit and sing,
Add, Saviour, to the eagle's eye,
The dove's aspiring wing.

CXCVIII.

To conquer and to save, the Son of God
Came to His own in great humility,

Who wont to ride on cherub-wings abroad,
And round Him wrap the mantle of the sky.
The mountains bent their necks to form His road;
The clouds dropt down their fatness from on high;
Beneath His feet the wild waves softly flow'd;
And the wind kissed His garment tremblingly.
The grave unbolted half his grisly door,

(For darkness and the deep had heard His fame,
Nor longer might their ancient rule endure;)
The mightiest of mankind stood hush'd and tame :
And, trooping on strong wing, His angels came
To work His will, and kingdom to secure:
No strength He needed, save His Father's Name;
Babes were His heralds, and His friends the poor.

CXCIX.

WITHIN this awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries:
Happiest they of human race

To whom their God has given grace
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,
To lift the latch, to force the way;
And better had they ne'er been born,
Than read to doubt, or read to scorn.

CC.

WHO laughs at sin, laughs at his Maker's frowns;
Laughs at the sword of vengeance o'er his head;
Laughs at the great Redeemer's tears and wounds,
Who, but for sin, had never wept or bled.

Who laughs at sin, laughs at the numerous woes
Which have the guilty world so oft befell;
Laughs at the whole creation's groans and throes,-
At all the spoils of death, and pains of hell.
Who laughs at sin, laughs at his own disease,
Welcomes approaching torments with his smiles;
Dares at his soul's expense his fancy please,
Affronts his God, himself of bliss beguiles.

Who laughs at sin, sports at his guilt and shame;
Laughs at the errors of his senseless mind:
For so absurd a fool, there wants a name,
Expressive of a folly so refined.

CCI.

WHEN this passing world is done,
When has sunk yon glaring sun,
When we stand with Christ in glory,
Looking o'er life's finished story,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know-
Not till then-how much I owe.

When I hear the wicked call
On the rocks and hills to fall,
When I see them start and shrink
On the fiery deluge-brink,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know-
Not till then-how much I owe.

When I stand before the throne
Dressed in beauty not my own,
When I see Thee as Thou art,
Love Thee with unsinning heart,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know-
Not till then-how much I owe.

When the praise of heaven I hear
Loud as thunders to the ear,
Loud as many waters' noise,
Sweet as harp's melodious voice,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know—
Not till then-how much I owe.

Even on earth, as through a glass,
Darkly, let Thy glory pass;
Make forgiveness feel so sweet,
Make Thy Spirit's help so meet;
Even on earth, Lord, make me know
Something of how much I owe.

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