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The God from whom it came, And if we serve with hearts sincere, 'Tis still discernible and clear,
An undisputed claim.
Farewell the joy we knew;
Without a guide or clue.
His work distinctly trace;
Their hearts his dwelling place.
Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove! With thee at hand, to soothe our pains, No wish unsatisfied remains,
No task but that of Love.
'Tis Love unites what Sin divides ; The centre, where all bliss resides ;
To which the soul once brought, Reclining on the first great Cause, From his abounding sweetness draws
Peace passing human thought. Sorrow foregoes its nature there, And life assumes a tranquil air,
Divested of its woes ;
In sacred sure repose.
DIVINE LOVE ENDURES NO RIVAL.
Love is the Lord whom I obey,
Whose will transported I perform; The centre of my rest, my stay,
Love's all in all to me, myself a worm.
For uncreated charms I burn,
Oppress’d by slavish fear no more; For One in whom I may discern,
Even when he frowns, a sweetness I adore.
He little loves Him who complains,
And finds him rigorous and severe; His heart is sordid, and he feigns,
Though loud in boasting of a soul sincere.
Love causes grief, but 'tis to move
And stimulate the slumbering mind; And he has never tasted love
Who shuns a pang so graciously design’d.
Sweet is the cross, above all sweets,
To souls enamour'd with thy smiles ; The keenest woe life ever meets,
Love strips of all its terrors, and beguiles.
'Tis just that God should not be dear
Where self engrosses all the thought, And
groans and murmurs make it clear, Whatever else is loved, the Lord is not.
The love of Thee flows just as much
As that of ebbing self subsides; Our hearts, their scantiness is such,
Bear not the conflict of two rival tides.
Both cannot govern in one soul ;
Then let self-love be dispossess'd; The Love of God deserves the whole,
And will not dwell with so despised a guest.
SOURCE of love, and light of day,
Is it thus that I requite
If my sorrow touch thee still,
Oh! the oppressive, irksome weight
Self-confiding wretch, I thought
Self is earthly_Faith alone
THE ACQUIESCENCE OF PURE LOVE. Love! if thy destined sacrifice am I,
Come slay thy victim, and prepare thy fires ; Plunged in thy depths of mercy, let me die
The death which every soul that lives desires ! I watch my hours, and see them fleet away;
The time is long that I have languish'd here; Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey,
With no reluctance, cheerful and sincere. To me 'tis equal, whether Love ordain
My life or death, appoint me pain or ease; My soul perceives no real ill in pain;
In ease or health no real good she sees. One Good she covets, and that Good alone;
To choose thy will, from selfish bias free;
And grief to comfort, if it pleases thee.
Die to the world, and live to self no more ;
As pleased when shipwreck'd as when safe on shore.
REPOSE IN GOD.
Blest! who, far from all mankind,