"NEVERTHELESS, NOT AS I WILL, BUT AS THOU WILT." GRACE does not steel the faithful heart, We learn to kiss the chastening rod, But how unlike the Christian's tears, As the heart from which they sped. The saint may be compelled to meet His bosom is alive to feel The keenest pang of woe: But, ever as the wound is given, And hide where it has been. The Christian would not have his lot Be other than it is; For, while his Father rules the world, He knows that He who gave the best, When clouds or sorrow gather round, And when the threatened storm has burst, Whate'er the trial be, Something yet whispers him within, Poor nature, ever weak, will shrink From the afflictive stroke; His grateful bosom quickly learns. The choice was not his own. 66 SEEING, THEN, THAT ALL THESE THINGS SHALL BE DISSOLVED." Ask the bird that soars on high, He could teach, if he might say, Lesser objects lost to view, All that once were bright and fair, Doubt you, then, why they who rise Little that is worth their care? They whose bosoms once could joy They whose hearts could sometimes feel From the world by sorrow riven, Deem not that the heart is chilled, Which, though once with anguish filled, Such emotions all forgot, Can smile and say, 'It matters not.' GLORIOUS Shepherd of the sheep, Where the heavenly pastures grow, Keep me in Thy righteous ways, With so great a Friend so nigh, |