Pensive, doubting, fearful heart, Hear what Christ the Saviour says; Every word should joy impart, Change thy mourning into praise. Yes, He speaks, and speaks to thee. May He help thee to believe! Then thou presently wilt see Thou hast little cause to grieve. Though afflicted, tempest-tossed, Comfortless awhile thou art, Do not think thou canst be lost, Thou art graven on My heart. All thy wastes I will repair, Thou shalt be rebuilt anew; And in thee it shall appear What a God of love can do. It is the pastor’s heart which takes up the very words of his friend— Yes, He _speaks and speaks to thee_, May He help thee to believe! Richard Cecil says that Herbert was a ‘favourite’ of Newton’s, and there are not wanting reminiscences of Herbert in the Olney hymns, though Newton had little of Herbert’s ingenuity or power, and he says in a few plain words what Herbert weaves into a quaint poem, bright and ever-memorable with some ‘conceit’ such as he only conceived. If we set Newton and Herbert side by side, the comparison is, of course, all in favour of Herbert. Herbert speaks to himself and to God in what is an unknown tongue to many a good plain Christian. Newton wrote for his simple labouring folk at Olney; he is the poet of the rustic prayer-meeting. Bemerton and Olney were both villages in the land of Beulah, but there is a difference in the dialect, which is easily accounted for when we remember the contrast between the life of Herbert and of Newton. When they passed through a similar spiritual experience they described it in very different fashion, but, though there are diversities of gifts, there is the same Spirit; there is the same self-distrust, self-abhorrence; and there is the same calm acceptance of the great salvation and its joys. George Herbert tells his deepest, sweetest experience in the final poem of _The Temple_.[163] Newton tells his story in simple, homely verse that is not poetry, but is prayer and praise expressed in natural rhythm. Dost Thou ask me who I am? Ah, my Lord, Thou know’st my name: Yet the question gives a plea To support my suit with Thee. Thou didst once a wretch behold, In rebellion blindly bold, Scorn Thy grace, Thy power defy: That poor rebel, Lord, was I. Once a sinner near despair, Sought Thy mercy-seat by prayer; Mercy heard and set him free: Lord, that mercy came to me. Many years have passed since then, Many changes I have seen, Yet have been upheld till now; Who could hold me up but Thou? IV Eighteenth-century Hymns IV.—Addison, Toplady, and Others