My God, how gracious art thou! I had slipt
Almost to hell,
And on the verge of that dark, dreadful pit
Did hear them yell,
But O thy love! thy rich, almighty love
That sav’d my soul,
And checkt their fury, when I saw them move,
And heard them howl;
O my sole comfort, take no more these ways,
This hideous path,
And I will mend my own without delays,
Cease thou thy wrath!
I have deserv’d a thick, Egyptian damp,
Dark as my deeds,
Should mist within me, and put out that lamp
Thy spirit feeds;
A darting conscience full of stabs and fears;
No shade but Yew,
Sullen, and sad eclipses, cloudy spheres,
These are my due.
But he that with his blood, (a price too dear,)
My scores did pay,
Bid me, by virtue from him, challenge here
The brightest day;
Sweet, downy thoughts; soft lily-shades; calm streams;
Joys full and true;
Fresh, spicy mornings; and eternal beams
These are his due.
WHEN I survey the bright Celestial sphere; So rich with jewels hung, that Night Doth like an Ethiop bride appear:
My soul her wings doth spread And heavenward flies, Th’ Almighty’s mysteries to read In the large volumes of the skies.
For the bright firmament Shoots forth no flame So silent, but is eloquent In speaking the Creator’s name.
No unregarded star Contracts its light Into so small a character, Removed far from our human sight,
But if we steadfast look We shall discern In it, as in some holy book, How man may heavenly knowledge learn.
It tells the conqueror That far-stretch’d power, Which his proud dangers traffic for, Is but the triumph of an hour:
That from the farthest North, Some nation may, Yet undiscover’d, issue forth, And o’er his new-got conquest sway:
Some nation yet shut in With hills of ice May be let out to scourge his sin, Till they shall equal him in vice.
And then they likewise shall Their ruin have; For as yourselves your empires fall, And every kingdom hath a grave.
Thus those celestial fires, Though seeming mute, The fallacy of our desires And all the pride of life confute:–
For they have watch’d since first The World had birth: And found sin in itself accurst, And nothing permanent on Earth.
The Night
Henry Vaughn (1621-1695)
Through that pure Virgin-shrine, That sacred veil drawn o’er thy glorious noon That men might look and live as glow-worms shine, And face the moon: Wise Nicodemus saw such light As made him know his God by night.
Most blest believer he! Who in that land of darkness and blind eyes Thy long expected healing wings could see,
When thou didst rise, And what can never more be done, Did at mid-night speak with the Sun!
O who will tell me, where He found thee at that dead and silent hour! What hallowed solitary ground did bear So rare a flower, Within whose sacred leaves did lie The fullness of the Deity.
No mercy-seat of gold, No dead and dusty Cherub, nor carved stone, But his own living works did my Lord hold And lodge alone; Where trees and herbs did watch and peep And wonder, while the Jews did sleep.
Dear night! this world’s defeat; The stop to busy fools; care’s check and curb; The day of Spirits; my soul’s calm retreat Which none disturb! Christ’s progress, and his prayer time; The hours to which high Heaven doth chime.
God’s silent, searching flight: When my Lord’s head is filled with dew, and all His locks are wet with the clear drops of night; His still, soft call; His knocking time; the soul’s dumb watch, When Spirits their fair kindred catch.
Were all my loud, evil days Calm and unhaunted as is thy dark Tent, Whose peace but by some Angel’s wing or voice Is seldom rent; Then I in Heaven all the long year Would keep, and never wander here.
But living where the sun Doth all things wake, and where all mix and tire Themselves and others, I consent and run To every mire, And by this world’s ill-guiding light, Err more than I can do by night.
There is in God (some say) A deep, but dazzling darkness; as men here Say it is late and dusky, because they See not all clear; O for that night! where I in him Might live invisible and dim.
CONNECT/HOOK 