 | Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 |  |
181
Christ's Tenderness to the bruised Reed and smoking Flax.
Matthew xii. 20. Long Metre.
I
Weak in myself, and burden'd too,Lo here I am, a bruised Reed;
And see th' Almighty Conqu'ror comes,
And I might feel his angry Tread.
II
But, O the condescending Grace,The humble Pity of his Soul,
He sees the Straw, he sees its State,
Stoops down, supports, and makes it whole.
III
The weak low Music of this Reed,To his kind Ear is Melody;
Nor will he break the useless Thing,
But tune it for the Choirs on high.
182
IV
If e'er his Love inflam'd my Breast,Alas! 'tis just expiring now:
A dying Snuff is all remains,
And furious Storms against it blow.
V
Deep in the Socket of my HeartThe Flame breaks, catches, quivers, dies,
But Jesus breathes upon the Spark,
And the fresh Oil of Joy supplies.
VI
Angels, thro' all your shining RanksSuch Tenderness was never known;
The brightest Wonders of his Grace
To our rebellious Race are shown.
VII
But, Angels, ye with Rapture viewThat Pity which we Mortals share;
Come then, assist a bruised Reed
Emanuel's Praises to declare:
VIII
Low are its Notes, but you can raiseStrains of sublimest Praise above,
Yet your sublimest Strains must fall
Far, far below his matchless Love.
| Collected poems of Samuel Davies : 1723-1761 | |