Thus on I grew, and still receive The blessings thou art wont to give Blessings alas! I ill repay With new transgressions every day. Yet still be gracious, Mighty Lord; Grant me a heart to love thy word, And when this worthless nature dies; Let angels waft me through the skies To Christ's eternal day. Oh! could some angel hover near, And tell us half its joys; How irksome would this life appear, And death-how great a prize! Then should we spread our anxious wings, Through yon bright orbs to fly; Then should we dwell on heav'nly things, And wish and long to die. Yet though our frail, corrupted hearts Feel not the heavenly flame, Jesus a Heaven on earth imparts, If we but love his name. Yes! if that hallow'd name we love, And strive his paths to run, This world a Heav'n indeed shall prove Eternal bliss begun. A little that a righteous man hath, is better than the riches of many wicked.-Psalm xxxvii. v. 16. SAY, what is wealth and all its joys, To Heav'n's immense, immortal prize?-- The dust that dims the scale! |