William Cowper Poems

Mycilla dyes her locks, 'tis said:
But 'tis a foul aspersion;
She buys them black; they therefore need
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A poet's cat, sedate and grave
As poet well could wish to have,
Was much addicted to inquire
For nooks to which she might retire,
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Thy mansion is the Christian's heart,
O Lord, Thy dwelling place secure!
Bid the unruly throng depart,
And leave the consecrated door.
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To keep the lamp alive,
With oil we fill the bowl;
'Tis water makes the willow thrive,
And grace that feeds the soul.
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The new-born child of gospel grace,
Like some fair tree when summer's nigh,
Beneath Emmanuel's shining face
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Sin has undone our wretched race;
But Jesus has restored,
And brought the sinner face to face
With his forgiving Lord.
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My song shall bless the Lord of all,
My praise shall climb to His abode;
Thee, Saviour, by that name I call,
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Jesus! whose blood so freely stream'd
To satisfy the law's demand;
By Thee from guilt and wrath redeem'd,
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The new-born child of gospel grace,
Like some fair tree when summer's nigh,
Beneath Emmanuel's shining face
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The Lord receives his highest praise
From humble minds and hearts sincere;
While all the loud professor says
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