His are the skies above thee spread,
He sitteth on heaven's throne;
All His, if thou art with him joined,
He bids thee deem thine own.
Wilt follow Him, sad, needy soul?
He condescends to call thee still:
Come, doubt no longer, in Him trust;
Say, needy soul, "I will!"
XVI. THE SEARCH.
I had sought throughout creation,
Searched its vast, amazing whole,
For an object to delight in,
Adequate to fill the soul.
After turning nature's pages
Forward, backward, o'er and o'er,
I attained not satisfaction,
But my longings grew the more.
Then amid angelic orders
Asked I if there were not one,
Willing to extend his friendship
To a wretched soul undone:
Soon a lofty spirit answered,
"No; there is not one of us,
Can hold friendship with a spirit
Fallen, guilty, wandering thus."
Shame and grief now overwhelmed me,--
My sad heart