How can I cease from sad complaint?
How can I be at rest?
My mind can never be content
To want my noble Guest.
Drop down, mine eyes, and never tire,
Cease not on any terms,
Until I have my heart’s desire,
My Lord within my arms.
My heart, my hand, my spirits fail,
When hiding off He goes;
My flesh, my foes, my lusts prevail,
And work my daily woes.
When shall I see that glorious sight
Will all my sins destroy?
That Lord of love, that Lamp of light,
Will banish all annoy!
O could I but from sinning cease,
And wait on Pisgah’s hill,
Until I see Him face to face;
Then should my soul be still.
But since corruption cleaves to me,
While I in Kedar dwell,
O give me leave to long for thee,
For absence is a hell.
Thy glory should be dear to me,
Who me so dear has bought;
O save from rendering ill to thee,
For good which thou hast wrought.
With fear I crave, with hope I cry,
Oh, promised favour send!
Be thou thyself, though changeling i
Ungratefully offend.
Out of the way remove the lets,
Cleanse this polluted den;
Tender my suits, cancel my debts:
Sweet Jesus, say Amen.
—Ralph Erskine’s Gospel Sonnets.