Thy Comforts Delight My Soul.
By Zion's Herald
I know the fair, green earth is thine,
And thine, O Lord, the starry heaven;
From thee the blessed light doth shine,
By thee the soft, sweet air is given;
And dear are all the common things
That tell of love from day to day—
The bud that blooms, the bird that sings,
And tender faces round my way. 'Tis not that any gift from thee
Is less than perfect, that I prize
The comforts of thy grace to me
Above the sights of earth and skies.
Thyself supreme, Eternal God,
Art more than all thy works disclose,
O Lamb of God! Thy sacred blood
To me love's deepest secret shows. From mortal ills I am not free,
Nor have I walked an easy road;
Yet every step was dear to me,
Since by the Man of Sorrow trod.
Through all the dark has shown thy face,
Thy peace has flowed beneath my pain,
Stumbling, I fell in thy embrace,
My loss by thee was turned to gain. And I might tell of hours apart,
In lonely path and secret place,
When burned and glowed within my heart
The wondrous meanings of thy grace;
Enough that thou did'st there abide,
And break the bread, and call me friend;—
Thy comforts, O thou Crucified,
Refresh me to my journey's end. No wonder that my weary feet
Grow strong in sight of Calvary;
That all thy gifts are passing sweet,
Embalmed in love so great and free.
Thy perfect beauty dawns more dear,
As nearer to thy cross I come;
In thee my life is only clear,
Thy heart, O Christ, is Heaven and Home.
—Zion's Herald.