The Poetry of Wales Part 19

Jesus--thou my only pleasure, Naught like thee this world contains; In thy name is greater treasure, Than in India's golden plains; And this treasure, Jesus' love for me obtains.

Jesus, lovely is the aspect Of thy gracious face divine; Eye hath seen no fairer object, On this beauteous world of thine, Rose of Sharon, Heaven's glories in thee s.h.i.+ne.

Jesus, s.h.i.+eld from sin's dark errors, Name which every foe o'ercomes; Death, the dreaded king of terrors, Death itself to thee succ.u.mbs.

Thou hast conquered, Joyful praise my soul becomes.

Fix, O Lord, a tent in Goshen, Thither come and there abide, Bow thyself from light celestial, And with sinful man reside.

Dwell in Zion, there continue, Where the holy tribes ascend; Do not e'er desert thy people, Till the world in flames shall end.

I am through the lone night waiting, For the dawning of the day; When my prison door is opened, When my fetters fall away; O come quickly, Happy day of jubilee.

Let me still be meekly wakeful, Trusting that to all my woes, By thy mighty hand, Redeemer, Shall be given a speedy close; Keep me watching, For the joyful jubilee.

O'er the gloomy hills of darkness, Look, my soul, be still and gaze; All the promises do travail, With a glorious day of grace; Blessed jubilee, May thy morning dawn apace.

Let the Indian, let the Negro, Let the rude Barbarian see That divine and G.o.dlike conquest, Once obtained on Calvary; Let the gospel, Loud resound from pole to pole.

Kingdoms wide, that sit in darkness, Grant them, Lord, the saving light; And from eastern coast to western, May the morning chase the night; Pouring radiance, As if one day sevenfold bright.

Blessed Saviour, spread thy gospel, Ride and conquer, never cease; May thy wide, thy vast dominions, Multiply and still increase; Sway thy sceptre, Saviour, all the world around.

O'er the earth, in every nation, Reign, Jehovah, in each place; Take all kingdoms in possession, Heathen darkness thence displace; Fill each people, Sun of Righteousness, with grace.

Oh! ye heralds of salvation, Jesus' mercy far proclaim; Bear, ye seas, the sacred mission, Till the pagan bless his name; Let the gospel Fly on wings of heavenly flame.

Let all those in deserts dwelling, All on hills--in dales around, Those who live 'midst oceans swelling, Jesus' glorious praises sound; Till the echo Of his name the world surround.

Ride in triumph, holy Saviour, Go and conquer o'er the land; Earth and h.e.l.l, with all their forces, Now before thee cannot stand; At the radiance of thy glory, Every foe must flee away; All creation thrills with terror Under thine eternal sway.

Aid me, Lord, always to tarry In my Father's courts below; Live in light divine and glorious, Without darkness, without woe; Live without the sun's departure, Live without a cloud or pain; Live on Jesus' love unconquer'd, Who on Calvary was slain.

Let me view the great atonement, And the kingdom that is mine, Which thy blood hath purchased for me, Sealed also as divine; Let me daily strive to find it, Let this be my chief employ; On my way I ask no favour But thy presence to enjoy.

Great Redeemer, Friend of sinners, Thou hast glorious power to save, Grant me light and still conduct me Over each tempestuous wave; May my soul with sacred transport View the dawn while yet afar, And until the sun arises, Lead me by the morning star.

O what madness, O what folly, That my thoughts should go astray, After toys and empty pleasures, Pleasures only for a day; This vain world with all its treasures, Very soon will be no more, There's no object worth admiring, But the G.o.d whom I adore.

I look beyond the distant hills, My Saviour dear to see; O come, Beloved, ere the dusk, My sun doth set on me.

Methinks that were my feet released From these afflicting chains, I would but sing of Calvary, Nor think of all my pains.

I long for thy divine abode, Where sinless myriads dwell, Who ceaseless sing thy boundless love, And all thy glories tell.

My soul's delight I will proclaim, O! Jesus 'tis thy face; Each letter of thy holy name, Is full of life and grace.

Beneath thy wing, thou Saviour meek, I would for ever be; No other pleasure vainly seek, My G.o.d, than loving thee.

Thy strength alone supports each day My footsteps, lest I fall; And thy salvation is my stay, My joy, my song, my all.

Than combs of honey sweeter is Thy favour to enjoy; In life, in death, no joy than this Will last without alloy.

Angelic throngs unnumbered, As dawn's bright drops of dew, Present their crowns before Him With praises ever new; But saints and angels blending Their songs above the sun, Can ne'er express the glories Of G.o.d with man made one.

Direct unto my G.o.d, With speed, my cry ascend; Present to Him this urgent plea:-- "In mercy, Lord, attend!

Fulfil thy gracious word, To bring me to thy rest; In Salem soon my place prepare, And make me ever blest!"

Down in a vale of tears, Where dwelt my Christ I mourn, And in the conflict with my foes, My tender heart is torn; O heal each bleeding wound, With thy life-giving tree; In Salem, Lord, above the strife, A place prepare for me!"

TRANSLATIONS FROM MISCELLANEOUS WELSH HYMNS.

Had I but the wings of a dove, To regions afar I'd repair, To Nebo's high summit would rove, And look on a country more fair; My eyes gazing over the flood, I'd spend the remainder of life Beholding the Saviour so good, Who for sinners expired in strife.

Once I steered through the billows, On a dark, relentless night, Stripped of sail--the surge so heinous, And no refuge within sight.

Strength and skill alike were ended, Nought, but sinking in the tide, While amid the gloom appeared Bethlehem's star to be my guide.

Of all the ancient race, Not one be left behind, But each, impell'd by secret grace, His way to Canaan find.