C. M. God my only happiness. Psa.73:25 My God, my portion, and my love, My everlasting all! I've none but thee in heav'n above, Or on this earthly ball. [What empty things are all the skies, And this inferior clod! There's nothing here deserves my joys, There's nothing like my God.] [In vain the bright, the burning sun Scatters his feeble light; 'Tis thy sweet beams create my noon; If thou withdraw, 'tis night. And whilst upon my restless bed, Amongst the shades I roll, If my Redeemer shows his head, 'Tis morning with my soul.] To thee we owe our wealth, and friends, And health, and safe abode: Thanks to thy name for meaner things, But they are not my God. How vain a toy is glitt'ring wealth, If once compared to thee! Or what's my safety, or my health, Or all my friends to me? Were I possessor of the earth, And called the stars my own, Without thy graces and thyself I were a wretch undone. Let others stretch their arms like seas And grasp in all the shore, Grant me the visits of thy face, And I desire no more. |