No stranger may proceed therein,
No lover of the world and sin;
No lion, no devouring care,
No ravenous tiger shall be there.
No: nothing may go up thereon
But travelling souls; and I am one :
Wayfaring men, to Canaan bound,
Shall only in the way be found.
Nor fools, by carnal men esteem'd,
Shall err therein; but they, redeem'd
In Jesu's blood, shall show their right
To travel there, till Heav'n's in sight.
This is the way I long have sought,
And mourn'd, because I found it not;
My grief, my burden, long have been
Because I could not cease from sin.
The more I strove against its power,
I sinn'd and stumbled but the more;
Till late I heard my Saviour say,
"Come hither, soul! for I'm the Way!"
Lo! glad I come; and Thou, dear Lamb,
Shall take me to Thee, as I am :
Nothing but sin I Thee can give ;
Yet help me, and Thy praise I'll live!
I'll tell to all poor sinners round
What a dear Saviour I have found;
I'll point to Thy Redeeming blood.
"Behold the Way to God!"
Go, worship at Immanuel's feet;
See, in His face what wonders meet;
Earth is too narrow to express
His worth, His glory, or His grace!
The whole creation can afford
But some faint shadows of my Lord;
Nature, to make His beauties known,
Must mingle colours not her own.
Is He compared to Wine or Bread?
Dear Lord, our souls would thus be fed :
That flesh, that dying Blood of Thine,
Is Bread of Life, is heavenly Wine.
Is He a Tree? The world receives
Salvation from His healing leaves :
That righteous Branch, that fruitful bough,
Is David's root and offspring too.
Is he a Rose? Not Sharon yields
Such fragrancy in all her fields;
Or if the Lily He assume,
The valleys bless the rich perfume.
Is He a Vine? His heavenly root
Supplies the boughs with life and fruit :
O let a lasting union join
My soul the branch to Christ the Vine!
Is He the Head? Each member lives,
And owns the vital power He gives;
The Saints below and Saints above
Joined by His Spirit and His love.
Is He a Fountain? There I bathe,
And heal the plague of sin and death;
These waters all my soul renew,
And cleanse my spotted garments too.
Is He a Fire? He'll purge my dross ;
But the true gold sustains no loss:
Like a Refiner shall He sit,
And tread the refuse with His feet.
Is He a Rock? How firm He proves !
The Rock of Ages never moves:
Yet the sweet streams, that from Him flow,
Attend us all the desert through.
Is He a Way? He leads to God;
The path is drawn in lines of Blood;
There would I walk with hope and zeal,
Till I arrive at Sion's hill.
Is He a Door? I'll enter in;
Behold the pastures large and green !
A paradise divinely fair;
None but the sheep have freedom there.
Is He design'd a Corner-stone,
For men to build their Heaven upon?
I'll make Him my Foundation too;
Nor fear the plots of hell below.
Is He a Temple? I adore
The indwelling majesty and power;
And still to His Most Holy Place,
Whene'er I pray, I turn my face.
Is He a Star? He breaks the night,
Piercing the shades with dawning light;
I know His glories from afar,
I know the bright, the morning Star !
Is He a Sun? His beams are grace,
His course is joy and Righteousness:
Nations rejoice, when He appears
To chase their clouds and dry their tears.
Oh! let me climb those higher skies Where storms and darkness never rise! There He displays His powers abroad, And shines and reigns, th' incarnate God.
Nor earth, nor seas, nor sun, nor stars,
Nor heaven His full resemblance bears :
His beauties we can never trace,
Till we behold Him face to face.
Compared with Christ, in all beside
No comeliness I see;
The one thing needful, dearest Lord,
Is to be one with Thee.
The sense of Thy expiring Love
Into my soul convey;
Thyself bestow: for Thee alone
I absolutely pray.
Whatever else Thy will withholds,
Here grant me to succeed!
O let Thyself my portion be,
And I am blest indeed!
Less than Thyself will not suffice
My comfort to restore ;
More than Thyself I cannot have;
And Thou canst give no more.
Loved of my God, for Him again
With love intense I burn;
Chosen of Thee ere time began,
I choose Thee in return!
Whate'er consists not with Thy love,
O! teach me to resign!
I'm rich to all th' intents of bliss,
If Thou, O God, art mine!
Augustus Montague Toplady. 1772.
Jesu! who for my transgression
Didst the shameful cross endure,
And didst there the blest possession
Of Thy joys to me insure;
May my praise be ever telling
Of Thy love, all love excelling!
Wondrous woes that brought salvation!
Wondrous grace to sinners shown!
Heaven is wrapt in contemplation
Of His love, whom men disown!
Oh my soul! wilt thou disown Him?
Wilt not thou, my heart, enthrone Him?
Who but He can bless thy weeping?
Who but He can soothe thy grief?
Only safe beneath His keeping,
Thou in Him hast sure relief:
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