MATTHEW V. 3, 4, 6.
Jesu, if still the same Thou art,
If all Thy promises are sure,
Set up Thy kingdom in my heart,
And make me rich, for I am poor:
To me be all Thy treasures given,
The kingdom of an inward heaven.
Thou hast pronounced the mourner blest,
And, lo! for Thee I ever mourn:
I cannot,—no! I will not rest,
Till Thou my only Rest return;
Till Thou, the Prince of Peace, appear,
And I receive the Comforter.
Where is the blessedness bestow'd
On all that hunger after Thee?
I hunger now, I thirst for God!
See, the poor, fainting sinner see,
And satisfy with endless peace,
And fill me with Thy righteousness.
Ah, Lord!—If Thou art in that sigh,
Then hear Thyself within me pray.
Hear in my heart Thy Spirit's cry,
Mark what my labouring soul would say;
Answer the deep, unutter'd groan,
And show that Thou and I are one.
Shine on Thy work, disperse the gloom,
Light in Thy light I then shall see:
Say to my soul, “Thy light is come,
Glory Divine is risen on thee,
Thy warfare's past, thy mourning's o'er:
Look up; for thou shalt weep no more.”
Lord, I believe the promise sure,
And trust Thou wilt not long delay;
Hungry, and sorrowful, and poor,
Upon Thy word myself I stay;
Into Thy hands my all resign,
And wait—till all Thou art is mine!
