Classic Poem

Alas, How hard a thing
It is to bring
Into a true Subjection, Flesh and Blood,
Quietly to entertain
(And not complain)
Those Exercises that attend for Good!

My Life, my Joy, my Love,
If thus thou please to Prove
And Exercise my poor perplexed Mind,
Teach me to wait in Fear,
That I may learn to bear
What Trials may attend, of any kind:

And, guarded by thy Ray,
Walk in the Way,
That leads directly to the Throne of Grace;
Where, in Humility
Poor, I may be
Admitted to fit down i'th' Heav'nly Place:

And there to thee discharge
My Griefs at large,
As to a Bosom-Friend, that bears with me,
And often passes by
Faults of Infirmity:
Alas, I cannot bear too much for thee!

Then work thy Blessed Will,
So to fulfil
Thy Sacred Counsel, for a further Trial;
All Trials work for good
(Tho' cross to Flesh and Blood)
To them that follow thee in Self-denial;

Bearing the Cross; for so
Thine come to know
We have a just High Priest, that's pleas'd to be
(Altho' he dwells above
What Grief can move)
Touch'd with a sense of our Infirmity.

Ah, let us ne'er forget,
When sore beset
With Tribulation, or when Snares surround,
Humbly to lean to thee!
Then shall we see
The Joys of thy Salvation to abound.

So Living Praises due
(Thou Holy, Just, and True)
To thee, thy dear Redeemed may proclaim,
And in Sincerity
May Magnify,
With Heart and Tongue, thy great Eternal Name.