|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
THE REMEMBRANCE OF MERCY. 137
The pleasure of the passing hour
My spirit next could wile; But soon, full soon, my heart fell sick
Of pleasure's weary smile.
More selfish grown, I worshipped health,
The flush of manhood's power ; But then it came and went so quick,
It was but for an hour.
And thus a not unkindly world
Hath clone its best for me ; Yet I have found, O God! no rest,
No harbor short of Thee.
For Thou hast made this wondrous soul
All for Thyself alone ; Ah ! send Thy sweet transforming grace
To make it more Thine own.
THE REMEMBRANCE OF MERCY.
Why art thou sorrowful, servant of God ?
And what is this dulness that hangs o'er thee now ? Sing the praises of Jesus, and sing them aloud,
And the song shall dispel the dark cloud from thy brow.