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JOB XXIII. 8, 9, 10.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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JOB XXIII. 8, 9, 10.

Forward I now in duties go,
But, O! my Saviour is not there!
Heavy He makes me drive, and slow,
Without the chariot-wheels of prayer.
I look to former times, and strain
The footsteps of my God to trace;
Backward I go (but still in vain)
To find the tokens of His grace.

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Surrounded by His power I stand,
His work on other souls I see,
He deals His gifts on either hand,
But still He hides Himself from me.
Groaning I languish at His stay,
But He regards my every groan;
Dark and disconsolate my way,
But still my way to Him is known.
When fully He my faith hath tried,
Like gold I in the fire shall shine,
Come forth when seven times purified,
And strongly bear the stamp Divine.