Love Increased by Suffering

"I love the Lord," is still the strain
This heart delights to sing;
But I reply--your thoughts are vain,
Perhaps 'tis no such thing.

Before the power of Love divine,
Creation fades away;
Till only God is seen to shine
In all that we survey.

In gulphs of awful night we find
The God of our desires;
'Tis there he stamps the yielding mind,
And doubles all its fires.

Flames of encircling Love invest,
And pierce it sweetly through;
'Tis fill'd with sacred joy, yet pressd
With sacred sorrow too.

Ah Love! my heart is in the right--
Amidst a thousand woes,
To thee, its ever new delight,
And all its peace, it owes.

Fresh causes of distress occur,
Where'er I look, or move;
The comforts, I to all prefer,
Are solitude and love.

Nor exile I, nor prison fear;
Love makes my courage great;
I find a Saviour ev'ry where,
His grace, in ev'ry state.

Nor castle walls, nor dungeons deep,
Exclude his quick'ning beams;
There I can sit, and sing, and weep,
And dwell on heav'nly themes.

There, sorrow, for his sake, is found
A joy beyond compare;
There, no presumptuous thoughts abound,
No pride can enter there.

A Saviour doubles all my joys,
And sweetens all my pains,
His strength in my defence employs,
Consoles me, and sustains,

I fear no ill, resent no wrong;
Nor feel a passion move,
When malice whets her sland'rous tongue;
Such patience is in Love.