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Faith. |
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Far from her home, fatigued, opprest, Here she has found a place of rest, An exile still, yet not unblest While she can cling to Thee \
Without a murmur I dismiss My former dreams of earthly bliss ; My joy, my recompense be this, Each hour to cling to Thee !
What though the world deceitful prove, And earthly friends and joys remove ? With patient uncomplaining love Still would I cling to Thee !
Oft when I seem to tread alone Some barren waste with thorns o'ergrown, A voice of love, in gentlest tone, Whispers, " Still cling to Me !"
Though faith and hope awhile be tried, I ask not, need not, aught beside : How safe, how calm, how satisfied, The souls that cling to Thee !
They fear not life's rough storms to brave, Since Thou art near, and strong to save ; Nor shudder e'en at death's dark wave ; Because they cling to Thee !
Blest is my lot, whate'er befal: What can disturb me, who appal, While, as my strength, my rock, my all, Saviour ! I cling to Thee ?
Charlotte Elliott. 183,4. |
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