Fruits of Retirement Or, Miscellaneous Poems, Moral and Divine. Being Some Contemplations, Letters, &c. Written on a Variety of Subjects and Occasions. By Mary Mollineux ... To which is Prefixed, Some Account of the Author |
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A Meditation.
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 | Fruits of Retirement |  |
A Meditation.
Ah, Lord! Why hid'st thou now thy Face from me?My Soul expects no Comfort but from thee;
No Joy, but Grief; no Solace can be found,
But Soul-distracting Sorrows still abound
Within my troubled Breast; if thou retire,
Or hide thy Face, all my Delights expire.
How can I Live, except thy Quick'ning Breath
Breathe on me, and subdue the Pow'r of Death?
Ah, let my Heart thy Holy Ghost receive,
That so a Resurrection from the Grave
I may not only know, but be renew'd
In strength, to press ev'n through a Multitude
Of Tribulations, Lord, to follow thee!
Which if they sometimes as a trial be,
To prove the Love, whereto thou dost engage
My Heart and Soul, in this Backsliding Age,
Let many Waters never quench the same,
But rather be as Oyl pour'd on the Flame;
Which quickens, not extinguisheth the Fire:
So may these Trials rouze my dull Desire
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And tend to thee, thou pure Eternal Love:
For, ah, the warmth of thy Enliv'ning Ray,
Proclaims the Dawning of th' Eternal Day;
Which secretly Incourages to bear
These light Afflictions; for the Day draws near,
Wherein shall be a Glory (far transcending
These Griefs) reveal'd, a Glory never ending:
But, Lord, support me; there's no Trial can
So far perplex, that on the outward Man
May be impos'd; no Sorrow that can be
Like the withdrawing of thy self from me:
Thou only art the Solace of my Soul,
To thee let my distressed Heart condole
Her Troubles; for there's none like that, when thou
With Frowns beclouds the Brightness of thy brow;
Or secretly with-holds the Glorious Ray,
Which is my Sun and Shield, my Strength and Stay;
My chiefest Counsellor, mine All: Ah, then
How can my Troubles be described by Pen!
The Threats of this vain World shall not afflict me,
Except the Darling of my Soul reject me:
For it's thine Absence is the greatest Grief,
Thy loving Presence is a true Relief.
O 'tis my long'd-for Joy, mine only One!
This Blessing therefore grant me, Lord, or none.
O 'tis thy Love that thus engageth me,
To wrestle with, and follow after thee!
And tho' to prove me, thou may'st tarry long,
Preserve in Patience, let me never wrong
Thy Favours, so as once to entertain
Another Lover, or to turn again
In Heart to Egypt: Can her Garlick be
Of any pleasant Savour now to me,
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On Manna-Delicates, or Angels Bread?
Which even in the Desart thou affords
Abundantly, as Holy Writ records
Thou didst of Old: No, no, 'twas Penury
Enforced (in that Land of Slavery)
To feed thereon. If thy indulgent Care
Provide, and feed my Soul with better Fare,
Teach me to prize thy Love; 'tis now the same;
To Isr'el's Seed, thou say'st not, Wait in vain;
But thou appear'st, who always do'st regard
Thy Breathing Babes, and with thee thy Reward
Of inward Comfort's known, with an Increase
Of Joy, and Earnest of Eternal Peace,
To those that keep thy Covenant; to them
Thy Promises are all Yea and Amen.
1680.
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