What think ye of Christ? is the test,
To try both your state and your scheme,
You cannot be right in the rest,
Unless you think rightly of him,
As Jesus appears in your view,
As he is beloved or not,
So God is disposed to you,
And mercy or wrath is your lot. Some take him a creature to be,
A man or an angel at most;
Sure these have not feelings like me,
Nor know themselves wretched and lost.
So guilty and helpless am I,
I could not confide in his word,
Nor on his protection rely,
Unless I could call him my Lord. Some call him a Saviour in word,
But mix their own work with the plan,
And he his help will afford,
When they have done all that they can.
If doings prove rather too light,
(A little they own they may fail,)
They purpose to make the full weight
By casting his name in the scale. Some style him the pearl of great price,
And say he's the fountain of joys,
Yet feed upon folly and vice,
And cleave to the world and its toys.
Like Judas the Saviour they kiss,
And while they salute him, betray.
Ah! what will professions like this,
Avail in that terrible day? If asked what of Jesus I think,
Though still my best thoughts are but poor,
I say he's my meat and my drink,
My life my strength and my store,
My shepherd, my husband, my friend,
My Saviour from sin and from thrall,
My hope from beginning to end,
My portion, my Lord, and my all. Copied for the REVIEW by O. DAMON.