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446 The Book of Praise.
Some of the shining number once I knew, And travell'd with them here : Nay some, my elder brethren now, Set later out for Heaven, my junior saints below: Long after me, they heard the call of Grace Which waked them unto Righteousness : How have they got beyond ! Converted last, yet first with glory crown'd ! 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 belov'd, tho' gone !
Think not I envy you your crown : No ! if I could, I wrould 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 Of comfort from His Throne : The shinings of His grace Soften my passage through the wilderness ; And vines, nectareous, spring where briers grew
The sweet unveilings of His Face Make me, at times, near half as blest as you ! O ! might His Beauty feast my ravish'd eyes, His gladdening Presence ever stay, And cheer me all my journey through ! But soon the clouds return ; my triumph dies ;
Damp vapours from the valley rise, And hide the hill of Sion from my view.
Spirit of Light! thrice holy Dove ! Brighten my sense of interest in that Love |
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