A CONTEMPLATION, SUGGESTED BY REVELATION, vii. 9–17. I SAW, and lo! a countless throng, The elect of every nation, name, and tongue, (The righteousness of God), And each a palm sustained In his victorious hand; When thus the bright, melodious choir began; "Salvation to thy name, Eternal God, and co-eternal Lamb, In power, in glory, and in essence, One!" And prostrate fall, with glory overpowered, A seraph pointed to the saints in white, And told me who they were, and whence they came: "These are they whose lot below Was persecution, pain, and woe; These are the chosen, purchased flock, Through His imputed merit, free from blame, Redeemed from every sin; And, as thou seest, whose garments were made clean, Washed in the blood of yon exalted Lamb. And pain, and heat, they know no more; To streams of joy perennial leads, And wipes, for ever wipes, the tears from ev'ry face." Happy the souls released from fear, And safely landed there! Some of the shining number once I knew, And travelled with them here; (Nay, some, my elder brethren now), Set later out for heaven; my junior saints below; Converted last, yet first with glory crowned! Little, once, I thought that these Would first the summit gain, And leave me far behind, slow journeying through the plain! Loved while on earth; nor less beloved though gone; Think not I envy you your crown; No; if I could, I would not call you down. Though slower is my pace, To you I'll follow on, Leaning on Jesus all the way, Who, now and then, lets fall a ray The shinings of His grace Soften my passage through the wilderness, And vines, nectareous, spring where briars grew. Make me, at times, near half as blest as you. And hide the hill at Zion from my view. Spirit of Light, thrice-holy Dove, Brighten my sense of interest in that love, My whole salvation hangs on thee, Ah, tell me, Lord, that thou hast chosen me! Thou, who hast kindled my intense desire, Fulfil the wish thy influence did inspire, And let me my election know! Then, when thy summons bids me come up higher, Well pleased I shall from life retire, And join the burning hosts, beheld at distance now. TOPLADY. THE METHOD OF SALVATION. THEE, Father, we bless, Whose distinguishing grace Selected a people to show forth thy praise; By election alone; For, oh, thou hast added the gift of thy Son! The goodness in vain We attempt to explain, Which found and accepted a ransom for men; Great Surety of thine, Thou didst not decline To concur with the Father's most gracious design. To Jesus our Friend, Our thanks shall ascend, Who saves to the utmost, and loves to the end; Our ransom He paid, In His merit arrayed We attain to the glory for which we were made. Sweet Spirit of grace, For thy eminent share in the council of peace; Great Agent Divine, To restore us is thine, And cause us afresh in thy likeness to shine. O God, 'tis thy part To convince and convert, To give a new life, and create a new heart; We're upheld in our race, And are kept in thy love to the end of our days. Father, Spirit, and Son, Agree thus in One, The salvation of those He has marked for His own. Let us, too, agree To glorify thee, Thou ineffable One, thou adorable Three! TOPLADY. ON THE DEATH OF MR. R. V. "Be not slothful, but followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises." Heb. vi. 12. THE crown of righteousness is given, For ever now redeemed from pain, |