« EelmineJätka »
Give me, at least, the crumbs that fall
From tables richly spread.
'Thou canst for all my wants provide,
And bless my homely crust :
And ought not I to trust ?
Behold the lilies how they grow,
Though they can nothing do; And will not God, who clothes them 30,
Afford me raiment too?
And seeing, Lord, thou dost withhold
The riches some possess, Grant me what's better far than gold
Thy grace and righteousness.
Oh, may I heav'nly treasure find,
And chuse the better part; Give me an humble, pious mind,
A meek and lowly heart.
Forgive my sins, my follie's cure,
And grant the help I need : And then, though I am mean and poor,
I shall be rich indeed.
CONSCIENCE; OR, THE LIGHT WITHIN.
How shall a simple child be taught
Thy holy law to understand ; How purify each sinful thought,
And live by thy command ?
By turning to the light within,
Which doth thy will declare,
For thou canst read it there.
Then let my heart, when night draws near,
Before I close my eyes to rest,
I have thy will transgress'd.
And with the morn's returning light
Lift up my soul to thee ;
And often visit me.
Oh! let not falsehood tempt my lips
To frame deceit, but may I bold
More precious far than gold.
Thus may a simple child be taught,
Thy holy law to understand;
And live by thy command.
PRAYER FOR TENDERNESS OF CONSCIENCE.
I want a principle within
Of godly,jealous fear;
A pain to feel it near.
That I from thee no more may part,
No more thy goodness grieve;
The tender conscience give.
Quick as the pupil of an eye,
O God my conscience make!
And keep it still awake.
If to the right or left I stray,
That moment, Lord, reprove ;
For having griev'd thy love.
Oh may the least omission, pain
My well-instructed soul !
Which makes the wounded whole.
THE LORD WILL HEAR THY PRAYER,
May I try to lisp bis praise
May I pluck the flow'rs that grow?
Oh! I will then, I will say,
THE FLOWERS THAT NEVER DIE.
I wish that flow'rs would always grow
As sweet as they are made,
And roses never fade.
But now they wither and decay,
And all their heauty flies;
Before to-morrow dies.
O yes, my love ! but flow'rs there are
That blossom in the breast-
The sweetest and the best.
The snow-white lily without stain
Is not so pure as truth;
In everlasting youth.
And sweeter than the sweetest rose
Is love shcd o'er thy mind;
To ev'ry creature kind.
These are the flow'rs that never die,
But bloom throughout the year:
No blight but sin need fear.
The butterfly, an idle thing,
Like to the bee and birda
A wise and cautious hoard.