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The Book of Praise.
Is He a Fountain ? There I bathe, And heal the plague of sin and death ; These waters all my soul renew, And cleanse my spotted garments too.
Is He a Fire ? He'll purge my dross ; But the true gold sustains no loss : Like a Refiner shall He sit, And tread the refuse with His feet.
Is He a Rock ? How firm He proves ! The Rock of Ages never moves : Yet the sweet streams, that from Him flow-Attend us all the desert through.
Is He a Way ? He leads to God ; The path is drawn in lines of Blood ; There would I walk with hope and zeal, Till I arrive at Sion's hill.
Is He a Door ? I'll enter in ; Behold the pastures large and green ! A paradise divinely fair ; None but the sheep have freedom there.
Is He design'd a Corner-stone, For men to build their Heaven upon ? I'll make Him my Foundation too ; Nor fear the plots of hell below.
Is He a Temple ? I adore The indwelling majesty and power; And still to His Most Holy Place, Whene'er I pray, I turn my face. |
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