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Occasional verse, moral and sacred

Published for the instruction and amusement of the Candidly Serious and Religious [by Edward Perronet]

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187

“NONE OF THESE THINGS MOVE ME.”

Acts xx. 24.

What, neither fear of want nor shame,
The hope of praise, nor dread of fame;
The smiling promises of men,
The lion's roar, or lion's den?
What, neither pain, nor grief, nor loss,
The torturing Rack, nor ling'ring Cross;
The wrath of men, or rage of fiends,
The loss of wealth, or loss of friends?
Do none of these thy spirit move,
Less to confess, or less to love;
But dauntless, confident, and bold,
Face eastern suns, or northern cold;
As all were nothing to that zeal,
That, lit in heav'n, could challenge hell?
What, then, can nothing cool or tire,
For safety for himself inspire
The man, whose heart was all a flame
To spread the honours of the lamb?
Not one of all, nor all in one,
Could make him shame, or fear to own
His love to thee, or thine to him,
Thy daily wonder and its theme;
Who all for him Himself denied,
Was scorn'd, betray'd, and crucified;

188

For whom all now is counted vain,
If Him or His thy heart might gain;
Can sinners by persuasion win,
And teach a world the death to sin;
To sigh, repent, believe, and love,
And live the life conceal'd above:
This all his wish, and all his care,
His constant strife, and constant prayer,
His office faithful to fulfil,
Renounc'd his own, his Master's will
His only hope, his daily joy,
His glory, triumph, and employ;
That finish'd well his race below,
He might in full assurance go,
Where He, by whom his labour's own'd,
And in that day with glory crown'd,
Holds out His servants last reward,
To sup and banquet with their lord!