The Reliquary By Bernard and Lucy Barton. With A Prefatory Appeal for Poetry and Poets |
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| II. |
“But your iniquities have separated between you and your God, and your sins have hid His face from you
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—Isaiah lix. 2.
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 | The Reliquary |  |
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“But your iniquities have separated between you and your God, and your sins have hid His face from you .” —Isaiah lix. 2.
How long, O Lord! wilt thou forsake?
How long must I thy absence mourn?
For thine unfailing mercy's sake,
Return, my gracious God! return,
And all my doubts and fears control;
Revive my drooping hopes once more,
And to my restless, anxious soul
Communion sweet with Thee restore.
How long must I thy absence mourn?
For thine unfailing mercy's sake,
Return, my gracious God! return,
And all my doubts and fears control;
Revive my drooping hopes once more,
And to my restless, anxious soul
Communion sweet with Thee restore.
Whence springs this dark distrust of Thee?
Why heaves with sighs my careful breast?
Why am I like the troubled sea
When tempest-tost, it cannot rest?
'Tis conscious guilt,—my sins arise
Like a dark cloud before thy throne;
And veil thee from my weeping eyes,
Hiding the little I had known.
Why heaves with sighs my careful breast?
Why am I like the troubled sea
When tempest-tost, it cannot rest?
'Tis conscious guilt,—my sins arise
Like a dark cloud before thy throne;
And veil thee from my weeping eyes,
Hiding the little I had known.
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Lord! to thy chastening hand I bend,
And own the just correction kind—
O ever thus in mercy send
Severe rebukes, when I inclin'd
To wander from thy holy way,
Forget that 'tis to faith alone,
Which humbly seeks it day by day,
That thy salvation shall be shown.
And own the just correction kind—
O ever thus in mercy send
Severe rebukes, when I inclin'd
To wander from thy holy way,
Forget that 'tis to faith alone,
Which humbly seeks it day by day,
That thy salvation shall be shown.
When once renounc'd, I vainly thought
Self-righteous trust would rise no more;
Nor dreamt I could again be brought
Beneath the law I serv'd before.
Oh! to that law let me be dead,
And thou, my Saviour, “make me free,”
That I, releas'd from slavish dread,
May live by holy faith on thee.
Self-righteous trust would rise no more;
Nor dreamt I could again be brought
Beneath the law I serv'd before.
Oh! to that law let me be dead,
And thou, my Saviour, “make me free,”
That I, releas'd from slavish dread,
May live by holy faith on thee.
Reveal to me that righteousness
By thee wrought out for guilty man,
Deep on my heart the truths impress
Of free salvation's glorious plan.
No more let me affront thy grace,
Or dare to mix my works with thine;
But in thy blood each stain efface,
And in thy full obedience shine.
By thee wrought out for guilty man,
Deep on my heart the truths impress
Of free salvation's glorious plan.
No more let me affront thy grace,
Or dare to mix my works with thine;
But in thy blood each stain efface,
And in thy full obedience shine.
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