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Joy. |
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The wilderness affords no food ;
But God for my support prepares, Provides me every needful good,
And frees my soul from wants and cares.
With him sweet converse I maintain ;
Great as He is, I dare be free ; I tell Him all my grief and pain ;
And He reveals His love to me.
Some cordial from His Word He brings,
Whene'er my feeble spirit faints ; At once my soul revives and sings,
And yields no more to sad complaints.
I pity all that worldlings talk
Of pleasures, that will quickly end ;
Be this my choice, O Lord, to walk With Thee, my Guide, my Guard, my Friend
John Newton. 1779. |
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CCCLXXXV.
Sometimes a light surprises
The Christian while he sings , It is the Lord, who rises
With healing in His wings : When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again A season of clear shining
To cheer it after rain.
In holy contemplation We sweetly then pursue
The theme of God's salvation, And find it ever new; |
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