Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/42

Perplexities do throng upon my sight,
Like scudding fog-banks, to obscure the light;
Some new dilemma rises every day,
And I can only shut my eyes and pray.

Lord, I am not sufficient for these things,
Giver me the light that Thy sweet presence brings;
Give me Thy grace, give my Thy constant strength;
Lord, for my comfort now appear at length.

It may be that my way doth seem confused,
Because my heart of Thy way is afraid;
Because my eyes have constantly refused
To see the only opening Thou hast made.

If thus I try to force my way along—
The smoothest road encumbered is for me;
For were I as an angel, swift and strong,
I could not go, unless allowed by Thee.

And now I pray Thee, Lord, to lead Thy child—
Poor wretched wanderer from Thy grace and love;
Whatever way Thou pleasest through the wild,
So it but take her to Thy home above.

Joy in the Holy Ghost.

There us a stream which issues forth
 From God's eternal throne,
And from the Lamb a living stream,
 Clear as the crystal stone.
This stream doth water Paradise,
 It makes the angels sing,
One cordial drop revives my heart.
 Hence all my joys do spring.

Such joys are are unspeakable,
 And full of glory too;
Such hidden manna, hidden pearls,
 As worldliugs do not know.