Joy in Martyrdom

Sweet tenants of this grove!
Who sing without design,
A song of artless love,
In unison with mine;
These echoing shades return
Full many a note of ours,
That wise ones cannot learn,
With all their boasted pow'rs.

Oh thou! whose sacred charms
These hearts so seldom love,
Although thy beauty warms
And blesses all above;
How slow are human things
To choose their happiest lot!
All-glorious King of Kings,
Say, why we love thee not?

This heart, that cannot rest,
Shall thine forever prove;
Though bleeding and distress'd,
Yet joyful in thy Love:
'Tis happy, though it breaks
Beneath thy chast'ning hand;
And speechless, yet it speaks
What thou canst understand.