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The Book of Praise.
Calm in the sufferance of wrong, Like Him who bore my shame ;
Calm 'mid the threatening, taunting throng, Who hate Thy holy Name ;
Calm when the great world's news with power
My listening spirit stir : Let not the tidings of the hour
E'er find too fond an ear:
Calm as the ray of sun or star
Which storms assail in vain, Moving unruffled through earth's war
Th' eternal calm to gain !
Horatins Bonar. 1856.
O send me down a draught of love, Or take me hence to drink above ! Here, Marah's water fills my cup ; But there, all griefs are swallow'd up.
Love here is scarce a faint desire ; But there, the spark's a flaming fire ;, Joys here are drops, that passing flee; But there, an overflowing sea.
My faith, that sees so darkly here, Will there resign to vision clear ; My hope, that's here a weary groan, Will to fruition yield the throne.
Here fetters hamper freedom's wing ; But there, the captive is a king ; And grace is like a buried seed But sinners there are saints indeed.