William Cowper Poems

'Tis my happiness below
Not to live without the cross,
But the Saviour's power to know,
Sanctifying every loss;
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My heart is easy, and my burden light;
I smile, though sad, when thou art in my sight:
The more my woes in secret I deplore,
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When the British warrior queen,
Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Sought, with an indignant mien,
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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,
The great Supreme, the mighty God.
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Where Humber pours his rich commercial stream,
There dwelt a wretch, who breathed but to blaspheme.
In subterraneous caves his life he led,
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Here lies one who never drew
Blood himself, yet many slew;
Gave the gun its aim, and figure
Made in field, yet ne'er pulled trigger.
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(Exodus, xv.26)

Heal us, Emmanuel! here we are,
Waiting to feel Thy touch:
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Pay me my price, potters! and I will sing.
Attend, O Pallas! and with lifted arm
Protect their oven; let the cups and all
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God of my life, to Thee I call,
Afflicted at Thy feet I fall;
When the great water-floods prevail,
Leave not my trembling heart to fail!
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To Heaven's bright lyre let Iris be the bow,
Adapt the spheres for chords, for notes the stars;
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