'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, 'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 'One morn, I missed him on the customed hill, 105 110 Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array, Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne: Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.' THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere ; He gained from Heaven, 'twas all he wished, a friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose ;) The bosom of his Father and his God. Thomas Gray. 115 120 125 CLXXIII WRESTLING JACOB. Come, O Thou traveller unknown, And I am left alone with Thee; I need not tell Thee who I am, Look on thy hands, and read it there! In vain Thou strugglest to get free, The secret of thy love unfold. Wilt thou not yet to me reveal Thy new, unutterable Name? Tell me, I still beseech Thee, tell : To know it now, resolved I am : Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, Till I thy Name, thy nature know. 'Tis all in vain to hold thy tongue, Or touch the hollow of my thigh; Though every sinew be unstrung, Out of my arms Thou shalt not fly: 5 10 15 20 25 30 What though my shrinking flesh complain, I rise superior to my pain; When I am weak, then am I strong: My strength is gone; my nature dies; I fall, and yet by faith I stand : Yield to me now, for I am weak, 35 40 Speak to my heart, in blessings speak, 45 Be conquered by my instant prayer! Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move, And tell me, if thy Name be Love? 'Tis Love! 'tis Love! Thou diedst for me! My prayer hath power with God; the grace 55 Through faith I see Thee face to face, I see Thee face to face, and live : I know Thee, Saviour, who Thou art; 60 Nor wilt Thou with the night depart, The Sun of Righteousness on me Hath rose, with healing in his wings; Contented now upon my thigh I halt, till life's short journey end; All helplessness, all weakness, I On Thee alone for strength depend; Nor have I power from Thee to move; Thy nature and thy Name is Love. Lame as I am, I take the prey, Hell, earth, and sin, with ease o'ercome; I leap for joy, pursue my way, And, as a bounding hart, fly home; Through all eternity to prove, Thy nature and thy Name is Love! 65 70 75 80 Charles Wesley. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery; The same whom in my school-boy days Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; 15 20 |