“Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice."
PHIL. 4: 4.
How can my wretched heart rejoice,
By each temptation tempest-tossed?
I hear Mount Sinai's awful voice,
And conscience echoes, "Thou art lost!”
My sins like threat'ning billows rise;
Death, judgment, wrath affright my eyes.
Say,-can the pilot dream of joy,
When rocks and breakers round him lie?
Can songs of mirth their tongues employ,
Who in the thirsty desert die?
Can joy their aching bosoms share,
By hunger pinched, and cold, and care?
Around my soul the tempests roar;
Perils on every side I see;
Hungry and thirsty, faint and poor,-
What joy is left for such as me?
So great a rebel, base a slave-
Will God have pity? can He save?
Hark! what is that bursts on my ear,
Sweet as the angels' midnight song?
Can they be true the words I hear?
Do they to such as me belong?
“Come, weary soul, attend My voice;
I Jesus amin ME rejoice!”
“Rejoice! for thee thy curse I bore,
My blood I shed to cleanse thy soul;
Rejoice, though naked, sick, and poor,
For I can clothe, and make thee whole.
Believe in Me, and all 's forgiven;
The lost one made an heir of heaven.”
Now joyful songs my lips employ,
To Him who loved, and bled, and died;
My never-ending theme of joy,-
Jesus for me was crucified!
Louder in heaven I '11 lift my voice,
And make its very vaults rejoice.