my life overflows with God's infinite waters of grace..."the water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." - john 4:14
Thursday, September 9, 2010
let His glory be done.
this semester i was introduced to the poetry and essays of Anne Bradstreet. how moving her work is, and how encouraging it has been to me at this time. i so need encouragement, and so need His glory to be done. and shown.
"For Deliverance from a Fever"
when sorrows had begirt me round,
and pains within and out,
when in my flesh no part was found,
then didst Thou rid me out.
my burning flesh in sweat did boil,
my aching head did break,
from side to side for ease i toil,
so faint i could not speak.
beclouded was my soul with fear
of Thy displeasure sore,
nor could i read my evidence
which oft i read before.
"hide not Thy face from!" i cried,
"from burnings keep my soul.
Thou know'st my heart, and hast me tried;
i on Thy mercies roll."
"O heal my soul," Thou know'st i said,
"though flesh consume to nought,
what though in dust it shall be laid,
to glory't shall be brought."
Thou heard'st, Thy rod Thou didst remove
and spared my body frail,
Thou show'st to me Thy tender love,
my heart no more might quail.
O, praises to my mighty God,
praise to my Lord, i say,
Who hath redeemed my soul from pit,
praises to Him for aye.
In Memory of my Dear Grandchild Anne Bradstreet, Who Deceased June 20, 1669, Being Three Years and Seven Months Old
with troubled heart and trembling hand i write,
the heavens have changed to sorrow my delight.
how oft with disappointment have i met,
when i on fading things my hopes have set.
experience might 'fore this have made me wise,
to value things according to their price.
was ever stable joy yet found below?
or perfect bliss without mixture of woe?
i knew she was but as a withering flower,
that's here today, perhaps, gone in an hour;
like as a bubble, or the brittle glass,
or like a shadow turning as it was.
more fool then i to look on that was lent
as if mine own, when thus impermanent.
farewell dear child, thou ne'er shall come to me,
but yet a while, and i shall go to thee;
meantime my throbbing heart's cheered up with this:
Thou with thy Savior art in endless bliss.
Labels:
my faith
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment