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Sunday, March 30, 2014

Field Bouquet with No sorrow there in yonder clime and My God! permit me not to be

No sorrow there in yonder clime,
Beyond the troubled waves of time;
No dreary nights nor weeping eyes,
No aching hearts, nor broken ties.

Ah, who would dwell forever here,
Away from those we hold so drear-
Away from Him whose wondrous love
Prepares for us a home above?

A little while our watch to keep,
A little while to wake and sleep,
To bear the cross, endure the pain-
And then with Christ forever reign.

O perfect rest, O calm repose,
Where life’s clear stream in beauty flows!
And we can sing, without a care,
No sorrow there, no sorrow there.
       F. J. Crosby
My God! permit me not to be
A stranger to myself and Thee;
Amidst a thousand tho’ts I rove,
Forgetful of my highest love.

Why should my passions mix with earth,
And thus debase my heavenly birth?
Why should I cleave to things below,
And let my God, my Saviour go?

Call me away from flesh and sense;
One sovereign word can draw me thence;
I would obey the voice divine,
And all inferior joys resign.

Be earth, with all her scenes, withdrawn,
Let noise and vanity be gone;
In secret silence of the mind,
My heaven, and there my God, I find.
     Rev. Isaac Watts

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