LIII.
HEAVENWARD.
Toward heaven, my Father's home, I steer,
Tossed on the billowy flood:
A man that hath no purpose here
Save seeking for his God.
Let me not swerve to right or left,
Or of thy guidance tire;
Kept in the course that heavenward leads,
Through gulphs of flood and fire.
Opposing tempests beat me back,
And I have strength no more;
O take me, Jesus, in thine arms,
And bear to yonder shore.
LIV.
"FAR BETTER."
Many dear ones are departed
To the grave's dark silent land:
I shall soon receive the summons
There to lie amid the band;
Where they hear not
Any more sad earth's complaints.
Blest are they who have expired
In the Lord, supremely blest!
In the port so oft desired
They for ever safely rest.
How much better,
There to sing than sigh with us!
LV.
EARTH AND HEAVEN.
My cup doth often while below,
With Marah's waters overflow:
But care and grief which here annoy,
Above shall be absorbed in joy.
The fire of love within the breast
Is here but fond desire at best:
The faintest spark in heaven it knows
With an immortal ardour glows.
The joy for which I here can hope
Is but the small tormenting drop:
A fathomless, eternal sea
Of bliss shall there encompass me.
A distant clouded glimpse is all
That Faith on earth may vision call:
But unto Faith and Hope in heaven
Are prospect and possession given.
Crumbs are on earth our richest fare:
But banquets wait the pilgrim there.
Here cold and faint the songs we raise:
But deathless there will be our praise.
Here evening shades envelope me;
All darkness shall from Zion flee;
Without a veil it will be given
God face to face to see in Heaven.
LVI.
THE SAVED.
I see a myriad saved,
Who once were faint as I;
Now they have climbed the rocky steeps,
And reign with Christ on high.
They sing on yonder side,
From doubt and sorrow free,
The praises of the bleeding Lamb,
The song of Calvary.
LVII.
ENDLESS PRAISE.
But begun will be the singing
Unto Jesus round His throne,
By the saved when tardy ages
With their songs and joys are flown:
And for ever,
Shall the golden harps resound.
There shall I rehearse the story,
How a weakling faint and worn,
Was o'er rocks and through deep waters,
To eternal glory borne:
Jesus wholly,
Shall absorb the songs of heaven,
LVIII.
APPROACHING LAND.
(Thought to have been suggested to the seraphic Bard, Williams, of
Pantycelyn, by the approach of Columbus to the shores of the Western
Continent.)
Here I am a passing stranger,
Far away my native land;
O'er the wide and stormy ocean,
Where lies Canaan's happy strand.
Raging storms of strong temptation
Drove me from my home astray:
Bear me, balmy southern breezes,
To its verdant shores away!
Spite of waves and counter-currents
Rolling o'er me from each side,
Through the seas and storms opposing,
I shall stem the swelling tide.
Than the floods thy word is stronger--
Stronger than the 'whelming wave:
All my hope I calmly venture
On thy promise, Lord, to save.
Not much longer must I battle
With the billows thus forlorn,
Land is nigh, each faithful promise
Shews how nigh Salvation's morn.
Not the deep shall be my dwelling:--
Joyful shall my spirit come,
When the seas have cleansed and proved me,
To my loved eternal Home.
Yea, methinks I catch already
Fragrant perfumes from the land,
Wafted by celestial breezes;
Surely it is near at hand.
O could I its coast discover,
Blessed country free from strife;
There my dearest friends are dwelling,
There is everlasting life!