High as Thou art, Thou still art near When suppliants succour crave; And as Thine ear is swift to hear, THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. "Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered." Psalm xxxii. BLEST is the broken, bleeding heart, For sin constrained to ache ! Soon Heavenly Hands shall bind it up, No more to bleed or break. Blest are the eyes, whose burning tears The Sun of Righteousness shall rise, To dry, or light them all. That broken heart, that tearful eye, That pensive pilgrim guise, Are Heaven's own gifts, and more than all Who has them, claims and titles has Which none beside can own; Pledges of more than eye hath seen, Or heart conceived or known. Through clouds and sunshine, storm and calm, He on to glory goes, With hope to light him o'er his way, And bliss to crown its close. The wise may slight, the proud may shun; His God is with him still, And adds a zest to all his joys, Through Him he daily triumphs gains O'er Satan, self, and sin; Through Him new blessings smile without, New joy and peace within. A coal from heaven has touched his lips, And Faith and Love spring forth to waft He goes, he goes, his fadeless crown From Christ's own hand to win! The angels throng round heaven's high gate, To hail the stranger in! The silver cord is loosed at last, His ceaseless praise to sing. THE PILGRIM'S SONG. "There remaineth a rest for the people of God." Heb. iv. My rest is in heaven; my rest is not here; It is not for me to be seeking my bliss The thorn and the thistle around me may grow: I would not lie down upon roses below: I ask not my portion, I seek not a rest, Till I find them, O Lord, in Thy sheltering breast. H |