Classic Poem

Your flowing urns, ye fountains, lend
To fill these failing eyes;
While mourning in the dust I bend,
Till mercy bid me rise.

Yes, I have known, from childhood known,
My God, thy holy will
Too negligent, I blushing own,
Thy orders to fulfill.

Thy friendly voice, without, within,
In clearest warnings spake:
" There winds the way of death and sin,
" The path of glory take. "

Unheeding what thy voice advis'd,
I went perversely wrong;
The caution and the hope despis'd,
And madly rush'd along.

Sometimes I paus'd, and sighing said;
I will these ways forsake.
Soon, by some headstrong lust o'ersway'd,
The feeble vow I brake.

Ah! whither has my folly rov'd?
Lost on perdition's ground,
From thy still waters far remov'd,
What pasture have I found?

Wand'ring for rest, where rest is none,
By guilt and fear pursu'd;
Idle, employ'd, in crowds, alone,
Sad images I view'd.

Was this the great and good design,
For which I saw the day?
Was reason giv'n, that beam divine,
Thus to be flung away?

Ingrate thy blessings I misus'd,
O thou long-suff'ring Lord.
Thy law contemn'd and grace abus'd
Demand thy damning word.

I hear, I hear soft mercy cry
(Sounds which my soul revive)
" O wherefore, sinners, will ye die?
" Children, return, and live. "

Before his Father's throne I see
The Mediator stand.
Lo, while he pleads, to Calvary
He points with speaking hand.

My God with a smile his full pardon displays,
Despair shall for ever my bosom depart.
My glory awake, sing aloud his high praise,
Sweet hope has begun to enliven my heart.