The Saviour hides His face;
My spirit thirsts to prove
Renew'd supplies of pardoning grace,
And never-fading love.
The favor'd souls who know
What glories shine in Him,
Pant for His presence as the roe
Pants for the living stream.
What trifles tease me now!
They swarm like summer flies!
They cleave to everything I do,
And swim before my eyes.
How dull the Sabbath day,
Without the Sabbath's Lord!
How toilsome then to sing and pray,
And wait upon the Word!
Of all the truths I hear,
How few delight my taste!
I glean a berry here and there,
But mourn the vintage past.
Yet let me (as I ought)
Still hope to be supplied;
No pleasure else is worth a thought,
Nor shall I be denied.
Though I am but a worm,
Unworthy of His care,
The Lord will my desire perform,
And grant me all my prayer.
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Comments2Wow, this poem brought back some mems from my younger years. "No pleasure else is worth a thought", it sorta hits different now. Makes me think about a lot of stuff. Homework doesn't get easir, huh?
William Cowper's poetry always resonates on such a deeply emotional level. This poem in particular has a realism that I remember finding so poignant when I first read it in my youth. His line, "I glean a berry here and there, but mourn the vintage past," truly touched my heart. His work never fails to move me.