Thrice blest is he to whom is given
The instinct that can tell
That God is on the field when He
Is most invisible.
Blest too is he who can divine
Where real right doth lie,
And dares to take the side that seems
Wrong to man's blindfold eye.
Then learn to scorn the praise of men,
And learn to lose with God;
For Jesus won the world through shame,
And beckons thee His road.
God's glory is a wondrous thing,
Most strange in all its ways,
And, of all things on earth, least like
What men agree to praise.
As he can endless glory weave
From what men reckon shame,
In His own world He is content
To play a losing game.
Muse on His justice, downcast some!
Muse and take better heart;
Back with thine angel to the field,
And bravely do thy part.
God's justice is a bed, where we
Our anxious hearts may lay,
And, weary with ourselves, may sleep
Our discontent away.
But right is right, since God is God;
And right the day must win;
To doubt would be disloyalty,
To falter would be sin!
--_F. W. Faber._
THE SUBSTITUTE.
"Jesu, plena caritate
Manus tuæ perfortæ
Laxent mea crimina;
Latus tuum lanceatum,
Caput spinis coronatum,
Hæc sint medicamina"--OLD HYMN.
I lay my sins on Jesus,
The spotless Lamb of God;
He bears them all and free us
From the accursed load.
I bring my guilt to Jesus,
To wash my crimson stains
White in his blood most precious,
Till not a stain remains.
I lay my wants on Jesus;
All fullness dwells in Him.
He heals all my diseases,
He doth my soul redeem.
I lay my griefs on Jesus,
My burdens and my cares;
He from them all releases,
He all my sorrows shares.
I rest my soul on Jesus,
This weary soul of mine;
His right hand me embraces,
I on his breast recline.
I love the name of Jesus,
Immanuel, Christ, the Lord;
Like fragrance on the breezes,
His name abroad is poured.
I long to be like Jesus,
Meek, loving, lowly, mild,
I long to be like Jesus,
The Father's holy child.
I long to be with Jesus
Amid the heavenly throng,
To sing with saints his praises,
To learn the angel's song.
--_Horatius Bonar._
JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER.
Judges. Chapter xi.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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