The fruitless showers of worldly woe
Fall dark to earth and never rise;
While tears that from repentance flow,
In bright exhalement reach the skies.
Go, let me weep.
Leave me to sigh o'er hours that flew
More idly than the summer's wind,
And, while they past, a fragrance threw,
But left no trace of sweets behind.--
The warmest sigh that pleasure heaves
Is cold, is faint to those that swell
The heart where pure repentance grieves
O'er hours of pleasure, loved too well.
Leave me to sigh.
COME NOT, OH LORD.
(AIR.--HAYDN.)
Come not, oh LORD, in the dread robe of splendor
Thou worest on the Mount, in the day of thine ire;
Come veiled in those shadows, deep, awful, but tender,
Which Mercy flings over thy features of fire!
LORD, thou rememberest the night, when thy Nation[1]
Stood fronting her Foe by the red-rolling stream;
O'er Egypt thy pillar shed dark desolation,
While Israel basked all the night in its beam.
So, when the dread clouds of anger enfold Thee,
From us, in thy mercy, the dark side remove;
While shrouded in terrors the guilty behold Thee,
Oh, turn upon us the mild light of thy Love!
[1] "And it came between the camp of the Egyptians and the camp of Israel;
and it was a cloud and darkness to them, but it gave light by night to
these"--_Exod_.
Pages:
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454