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| Meditation |
| To His Love Come away, come, sweet love, The golden morning breaks, All the earth, all the air Of love and pleasure speaks, Teach thine arms then to embrace, And sweet rosy lips to kiss, And mix our souls in mutual bliss. Eyes were made for beauty's grace, Viewing, rueing love's long pain, Procur'd by beauty's rude disdain. Come away, come, sweet love, The golden morning wastes, While the sun from his sphere His fiery arrows casts: Making all the shadows fly, Playing, staying in the grove, To entertain the stealth of love, Thither, sweet love, let us hie, Flying, dying, in desire, Wing'd with sweet hopes and heav'nly fire. Come away, come, sweet love, Do not in vain adorn Beauty's grace that should rise Like to the naked morn: Lilies on the river's side, And fair Cyprian flowers new blown, Desire no beauties but their own, Ornament is nurse of pride, Pleasure, measure, love's delight, Haste then, sweet love, our wished fligh |
| Love Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lacked anything. "A guest," I answered, "worthy to be here": Love said, "You shall be he." "I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear, I cannot look on thee." Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, "Who made the eyes but I?" "Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame Go where it doth deserve." "And know you not," says Love, "who bore the blame?" "My dear, then I will serve." "You must sit down," says Love, "and taste my meat." So I did sit and eat. |
| He Giveth More Grace He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater, He sendeth more strength when the labors increase; To added affliction He addeth His Mercy To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace. His Love has no limit; His grace has no measure; His power no boundary known unto men; For out of His infinite riches in Jesus He giveth and giveth and giveth again Annie Johnson Flint |
| HE MAKES NO MISTAKE My Father's way may twist and turn, My heart may throb and ache, But in my soul I'm glad I know, He makes no mistake. My cherished plans may go astray, My hopes may fade away, But still I'll trust my Lord to lead For He does know the way. Though night be dark and it may seem That day will never break; I'll pin my faith, my all in Him, He makes no mistake. There is so much now I cannot see My eyesight is far too dim; But come what may, I'll simply trust And leave it all to Him. For by and by the mist will lift and plain it all He will make Through all the way, though dark to me, He made not one mistake. A.M. Overton |