Part 14 (1/2)

Forgotten be the trials past, The present meekly borne; Our burdens cast upon the Lord, Who comforts those that mourn.

With heavenly wisdom we shall know What G.o.d would have us do; While moving in his order on, Our hope and strength renew.

Revived and strengthened we're prepared To spread the truth abroad, Beseeching men in Jesus' stead, Be reconciled to G.o.d.

Then jewels will be gathered in, The church built up again, And all prepared to meet the Lord, Who's coming soon to reign.

The Race and Warfare.

Are we loitering on the way To the realms of endless day?

Sleep we on while danger's near?

Have we nought to dread or fear?

Let us heed the call, Awake!

Our eternal all's at stake; One false step our fate may seal, Ruin, soon our souls may feel.

Foes our every move to spy, All around in ambush lie; Watching, they will take the place Left unfortified by grace.

Oh! what havoc then is made, Structures fair in ruin laid; Messengers driven from the field, Those who should be valiant, yield.

Some who started to go through Now a wicked course pursue; What account must soon be given!

Why thus sink in sight of Heaven?

Flee, oh! flee the tempter's snare!

There is power with G.o.d in prayer; He is ready to forgive, Saying, Look to me and live.

The Darkness of Despair.

The heart knows its bitterness, thought 't may be said, You are happy and blest all the while; The depth of your misery, your burden of sin May in anguish be hid 'neath a smile.

Thy waves and thy billows are over me gone, With the Psalmist, I mournfully say, And ask, Why cast down? Why disquieted, opprest?

'Tis why I've no heart now to pray?

Has the Spirit been grieved? Has it taken its flight?

To this desolate self am I left?

And merited sure, naught else is deserved, But to be thus of comfort bereft.

I groan, being burdened, and cannot look up, By reason of sin's dread array, O keep back from sins, and from secret faults cleanse, Or despairing, I sink in dismay.

Sin hardens, and blinds, and shuts up in despair; The way of transgressors is hard, Its end is destruction, its wages are death, Thus forever from Heaven debarred.

This anguish of spirit, this sad state of the soul, I must bear though I may not submit.

G.o.d is just though I perish, his throne remains pure, However many he may not acquit.