Oh, by-past years! ye days of earth,
I would not call you back;
I only mourn the barren dearth
Of faith which marred your track.
Not e’en my springtide’s golden youth,
To worldly wisdom fair;
Its skies were roseate, but in truth
No light from heav’n was there.
I sigh not for that short-lived past,
‘Tis resting with my LORD!
Nail’d to His cross, in mercy vast,
Atoned for by His blood.
Along its vista, boundless love,
With guiding, sparing grace,
And newborn soul-life from above,
My praising heart can trace.
I mourn not for the ceaseless flight
Of days, and months, and years;
They’ll terminate in timeless light
The hour my Lord appears.
I thank Him for the present hour
I fain would live to shine
A little lamp, fed by the power
And oil of grace divine.
Dear Lord, a brimming cup of love
For me Thine hand hath filled,
Of bounteous vintage from above,
From boundless grace distilled.
With choicest gifts it streameth o’er
Of blessings for this life,
And every hour, with added store,
Seems richer and more rife.
One blessing vast above the rest
My favoured path hath crowned,
‘Tis that upon my SAVIOUR’S breast
This soul GOD’S PEACE has found.
Oh! in this cup of love’s o’erflow,
Mix, Lord, Thy gift of grace,
That in my heart a grateful glow
May hold the foremost place.