Classic Poem

The certainty of faith and sense
Wide differ in experience:
Faith builds upon, Thus saith the Lord ;
Sense views his work; and not his word.

God's word without is faith's resort;
His work within doth sense support.
By faith we trust him without pawns; [ pledges. ]
By sense we handle with our hands.

By faith the word of truth's receiv'd;
By sense we know we have believ'd.
Faith's certain by fiducial acts:
Sense by its evidential facts.

Faith credits the divine report;
Sense to his breathing makes resort:
That on his word of grace will hing;
This on his Spirit witnessing.

By faith I take the Lord for mine;
By sense I feel his love divine;
By that I touch his garment hem;
By this find virtue thence to stream.

By faith I have mine all on hand;
By sense I have some stock in hand;
By that some vision is begun;
By this I some fruition win.

My faith can fend ev'n in exile;
Sense cannot live without a smile.
By faith I to his promise fly;
By sense I in his bosom lie.

Faith builds upon the truth of God,
That lies within the promise broad:
But sense upon the truth of grace
His hand within my heart did place.

Thus Christ's the object faith will eye;
And faith's the object sense may see;
Faith keeps the truth of God in view,
While sense the truth of faith may shew.

Hence faith's assurance firm can stand,
When sense's in the deep may strand;
And faith's persuasion full prevail,
When comfortable sense may fail.

I am assur'd when faith's in act,
Though sense and feeling both I lack:
And thus mysterious is my lot,
I'm oft assur'd when I am not;

Of pierc'd with racking doubts and fears;
Yet faith these brambles never bears;
But unbelief, that cuts my breath,
And stops the language of my faith.

Clamours of unbelieving fears
So frequently disturb my ears
I cannot hear what faith would say,
Till once the noisy clamours stay.

And then will fresh experience find,
When faith gets leave to speak its mind,
The native language thereof is,
My Lord is mine and I am his.

Sad doubtings compass me about,
Yet faith itself could never doubt;
For as the sacred volume saith,
Much doubting argues little faith.

The doubts and fears that work my grief,
Flow not from faith, but unbelief;
For, faith, whene'er it acteth, cures
The plague of doubts, and me assures.

But when mine eye of faith's asleep,
I dream of drowning in the deep:
But, as befals the sleeping eye,
Though sight remain it cannot see:

The seeing faculty abides,
Though sleep from acti ve seeing hides;
So faith's assuring pow'rs endure
Ev'n when it ceases to assure.

There's still persuasion in my faith,
Ev'n when I'm fill'd with fears of wrath;
The trusting habit still remains,
Though slumbers hold the act in chains.

Th' assuring faculty it keeps,
Ev'n when its eye in darkness sleeps,
Wrapp'd up in doubts; but when it wakes,
It rouses up assuring acts.