There is a Stream, which issues forth
From God's eternal Throne,
And from the Lamb, a living stream
Clear as the crystal stone.
The stream doth water Paradise ;
It makes the angels sing;
One cordial drop revives my neart;
Hence all my joys do spring.
Such joys as are unspeakable,
And full of glory too;
Such hidden manna, hidden pearls,
As worldlings do not know.
Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard,
From fancy 'tis concealed,
What Thou, Lord, hast laid up for Thine,
And hast to me revealed.
I see Thy face, I hear Thy voice,
I taste Thy sweetest love:
My soul doth leap: but O for wings,
The wings of Noah's dove!
Then should I flee far hence away,
Leaving this world of sin!
Then should my Lord put forth His hand,
And kindly take me in!
Then should my soul with angels feast
On joys that always last!
Blest be my God, the God of joy,
Who gives me here a taste.
Ye sons of earth, prepare the plough,
Break up your fallow ground;
The Sower is gone forth to sow,
And scatter blessings round.
The seed that finds a stony soil
Shoots forth a hasty blade;
But ill repays the sower's toil,
Soon wither'd, scorch'd, and dead.
The thorny ground is sure to balk
All hopes of harvest there;
We find a tall and sickly stalk,
But not the fruitful ear.
The beaten path and highway side
Receive the trust in vain ;
The watchful birds the spoil divide,
And pick up all the grain.
But when the Lord of grace and
Has bless'd the happy field,
How plenteous is the golden store
The deep-wrought furrows yield!
Father of mercies! we have need
Of Thy preparing grace :
Let the same Hand, that gives the seed,
Provide a fruitful place!
William Cowper. 1779.
PSALM XIX.
Behold, the morning sun
Begins his glorious way;
His beams through all the nations run,
And life and light convey.
But where the gospel comes,
It spreads diviner light,
It calls dead sinners from their tombs,
And gives the blind their sight.
How perfect is Thy word! And all Thy judgments just ! For ever sure Thy promise, Lord; And men securely trust.
While with my heart and tongue
I spread Thy praise abroad,
Accept the worship and the song,
My Saviour and my God!
The starry firmament on high,
And all the glories of the sky,
Yet shine not to Thy praise, O Lord,
So brightly as Thy written word;
The hopes that holy word supplies,
Its truths divine, and precepts wise,
In each a heavenly beam I see,
And every beam conducts to Thee.
When, taught by painful proof to knew
That all is vanity below,
The sinner roams from comfort far,
And locks in vain for sun or star;
Seft gleaming then those lights divine
Through all the cheerless darkness shine,
And sweetly to the ravish'd eye
Disclose the Day-spring from on high.
The heart. in sensual fetters bound,
And barren as the wintry ground.
Confesses, Lord. Thy quickening ray ;
Thy word can charm the spell away;
With genial influence can beguile
The frozen wilderness to smile;
Bid living waters o'er it flow,
And all be paradise below.
Almighty Lord, the sun shall fail,
The moon forget her nightly tale,
And deepest silence hush on high
The radiant chorus of the sky;
But, fix'd for everlasting years,
Unmoved amid the wreck of spheres,
Thy word shall shine in cloudless day,
When heaven and earth have pass'd away.
Sir Robert Grant. [1839.]
THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH.
"And I believe one Catholic and Apostolic Church."
Jerusalem, my happy home,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end,
Thy joys when shall I see?
O happy harbour of the saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.
There lust and lucre cannot dwell,
There envy bears no sway;
There is no hunger, heat, nor cold,
But pleasure every way.
Thy walls are made of precious stones,
Thy bulwarks diamonds square ;
Thy gates are of right orient pearl,
Exceeding rich and rare.
Thy turrets and thy pinnacles
With carbuncles do shine;
Thy very streets are paved with gold,
Surpassing clear and fine.
Ah, my sweet home, Jerusalem,
Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see!
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