And much of Asia and Europe fast asleep, With these two poor ones lick up all the dew, 112. JUSTICE. DREADFUL justice, what a fright and terror Wast thou of old, When sin and error Did show and shape thy looks to me, The beam and scape Did like some tottering engine show: Daunting the stoutest hearts, the proudest wits. But now that Christ's pure veil presents the sight, I see no fears: Thy hand is white, Thy scales like buckets, which attend And interchangeably descend, Lifting to heaven from this well of tears. For where before thou still didst call on me, Now I still touch And harp on thee. God's promises hath made thee mine: Against me there is none, but for me much. 113. THE PILGRIMAGE. TRAVELL'D on, seeing the hill, where lay A long it was and weary way. I left on the one, and on the other side And so I came to Fancy's meadow strow'd Fain would I here have made abode, So to Care's copse I came, and there got through That led me to the wild of Passion; which A wasted place, but sometimes rich. Save one good Angel, which a friend had tied At length I got unto the gladsome hill, Where lay my heart; and climbing still, A lake of brackish waters on the ground Was all I found. With that abash'd, and struck with many a sting Of swarming fears, I fell, and cried, alas, my King! Can both the way and end be tears? My hill was further: so I flung away, Just as I went, 66 none goes that way After so foul a journey death is fair, And but a chair. 114. THE HOLD-FAST. THREATEN'D to observe the strict decree Of my dear God with all my power and might: But I was told by one, it could not be; Yet I might trust in God to be my light. Then will I trust, said I, in Him alone. Nay, e'en to trust in Him, was also His : Then I confess that He my succour is: But to have nought is ours, not to confess That we have nought. I stood amazed at this, Much troubled, till I heard a friend express, That all things were more ours by being His. What Adam had, and forfeited for all, Christ keepeth now, Who cannot fail or fall. 115. COMPLAINING. O not beguile my heart, Because Thou art My power and wisdom. Put me not to shame, Because I am Thy clay that weeps, Thy dust that calls. Thou art the Lord of glory; The deed and story Are both Thy due: but I a silly fly, That live or die, According as the weather falls. Art thou all justice, Lord? Shows not thy word More attributes? Am I all throat or eye, Have I no parts but those of grief? Let not Thy wrathful power My inch of life or let Thy gracious power Contract my hour, That I may climb and find relief. 116. THE DISCHARGE. USY enquiring heart, what wouldst thou [know? And turn, and leer, and with a licorous eye Look high and low; And in thy lookings stretch and grow? Hast thou not made thy counts, and summ'd up all? Did not thy heart Give up the whole, and with the whole depart? That which is past who can recall? Thy life is God's, thy time to come is gone, He is thy night at noon: He is at night The crop is His, for He hath sown. And well it was for thee, when this befell, Thy business His, and in thy life partake: If it be His once, all is well. Only the present is thy part and fee. If, though thou didst not beat thy future brow, What present things required of thee. |