THERE is a Name that has the power
The wildest heart to tame,
And hold it fast, though nature cower
Beneath the scourge or flame.
Dost thou this wondrous Name confess?
It’s accents with delight express?
“‘Tis Jesus.” Yes, the same;
The Name, all other names above,
For majesty, and grace, and love.
The world He made, too, owns a law
That’s witness’d all around;
By which the glowing Sun can draw
The seedlings from the ground.
Beneath his beams, and bounteous showers,
Upspring the bright and beauteous flowers
With which the earth is crown’d;
And one there is whose shape displays
Some semblance of his disk and rays: —
The Sunflower, which, from morn till e’en,
Upturns its open face
Unto the Sun, as, o’er this scene,
He daily runs his race.
Thus, ever gazing on the orb,
Some rays appearing to absorb,
A likeness we can trace,
Some slight resemblance of the Sun,
His image, though a feeble one.
And so, the soul in Christ who hides,
And life in Him receives,
Who truly in His love abides,
And firmly to Him cleaves,
Can but reflect some living rays
From Him, who thus his being sways,
And, loving, never leaves;
His spirit, actions, words, and mien,
Declare with Jesus he has been.
T.