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Night! how I love thy silent shades

Author: Madame Guyon; William Cowper Hymnal: TFG #31 (1800) Person Name: Madame Guyon Lyrics: Night! how I love thy silent shades, My spirits they compose; The bliss of heaven my soul pervades, In spite of all my woes. While sleep instils her poppy dews In every slumbering eye, I watch to meditate and muse, In blest tranquillity. And when I feel a God immense Familiarly impart, With every proof he can dispense, His favour to my heart; My native meanness I lament, Though most divinely filled With all the ineffable content That Deity can yield. His purpose and his course he keeps; Treads all my reasonings down; Commands me out of nature's deeps, And hides me in his own. When in the dust, its proper place, Our pride of heart we lay; 'Tis then a deluge of his grace Bears all our sins away. Thou whom I serve, and whose I am, Whose influence from on high Refines, and still refines my flame, And makes my fetters fly; How wretched is the creature's state Who thwarts thy gracious power; Crushed under sin's enormous weight, Increasing every hour! The night, when passed entire with thee, How luminous and clear! Then sleep has no delights for me, Lest thou should'st disappear. My Saviour! occupy me still In this secure recess; Let reason slumber if she will, My joy shall not be less. Let reason slumber out the night; But if thou deign to make My soul the abode of truth and light, Ah, keep my heart awake! Languages: English

Long plunged in sorrow, I resign

Author: Madame Guyon; William Cowper Hymnal: TFG #32 (1800) Person Name: Madame Guyon Lyrics: Long plunged in sorrow, I resign My soul to that dear hand of thine, Without reserve or fear; That hand shall wipe my streaming eyes; Or into smiles of glad surprise Transform the falling tear. My sole possession is thy love; In earth beneath, or heaven above, I have no other store; And, though with fervent suit I pray, And importune thee night and day, I ask thee nothing more. My rapid hours pursue the course Prescribed them by love's sweetest force, And I thy sovereign will, Without a wish to escape my doom; Though still a sufferer from the womb, And doomed to suffer still. By thy command, where'er I stray, Sorrow attends me all my way, A never–failing friend; And, if my sufferings may augment Thy praise, behold me well content— Let sorrow still attend! It cost me no regret, that she, Who followed Christ, should follow me, And though, where'er she goes, Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet, I love her, and extract a sweet From all my bitter woes. Adieu! ye vain delights of earth, Insipid sports, and childish mirth, I taste no sweets in you; Unknown delights are in the cross, All joy beside to me is dross; And Jesus thought so too. The cross! Oh, ravishment and bliss— How grateful e'en its anguish is; Its bitterness how sweet! There every sense, and all the mind, In all her faculties refined, Tastes happiness complete. Souls once enabled to disdain Base sublunary joys, maintain Their dignity secure; The fever of desire is passed, And love has all its genuine taste, Is delicate and pure. Self–love no grace in sorrow sees, Consults her own peculiar ease; 'Tis all the bliss she knows; But nobler aims true Love employ; In self–denial is her joy, In suffering her repose. Sorrow and love go side by side; Nor height nor depth can e'er divide Their heaven–appointed bands; Those dear associates still are one, Nor till the race of life is run Disjoin their wedded hands. Jesus, avenger of our fall, Thou faithful lover, above all The cross has ever borne! Oh, tell me,—life is in thy voice— How much afflictions were thy choice, And sloth and ease thy scorn! Thy choice and mine shall be the same, Inspirer of that holy flame Which must for ever blaze! To take the cross and follow thee, Where love and duty lead, shall be My portion and my praise. Languages: English

Sweet tenants of this grove!

Author: Madame Guyon; William Cowper Hymnal: TFG #33 (1800) Person Name: Madame Guyon Lyrics: Sweet tenants of this grove! Who sing without design, A song of artless love, In unison with mine: These echoing shades return Full many a note of ours, That wise ones cannot learn, With all their boasted powers. O thou! whose sacred charms These hearts so seldom love, Although thy beauty warms And blesses all above; How slow are human things, To choose their happiest lot! All–glorious King of kings, Say why we love thee not? This heart, that cannot rest, Shall thine for ever prove; Though bleeding and distressed, Yet joyful in thy love: 'Tis happy though it breaks Beneath thy chastening hand; And speechless, yet it speaks, What thou canst understand. Languages: English

Still, still, without ceasing

Author: Madame Guyon; William Cowper Hymnal: TFG #34 (1800) Person Name: Madame Guyon Lyrics: Still, still, without ceasing, I feel it increasing, This fervour of holy desire; And often exclaim, Let me die in the flame Of a love that can never expire! Had I words to explain What she must sustain Who dies to the world and its ways; How joy and affright, Distress and delight, Alternately chequer her days: Thou, sweetly severe! I would make thee appear, In all thou art pleased to award. Not more in the sweet Than the bitter I meet My tender and merciful Lord. This faith, in the dark, Pursuing its mark, Through many sharp trials of love, Is the sorrowful waste That is to be passed On the way to the Canaan above. Languages: English

Source of love, my brighter sun

Author: Madame Guyon; William Cowper Hymnal: TFG #35 (1800) Person Name: Madame Guyon Lyrics: Source of love, my brighter sun, Thou alone my comfort art; See, my race is almost run; Hast thou left this trembling heart? In my youth thy charming eyes Drew me from the ways of men; Then I drank unmingled joys; Frown of thine saw never then. Spouse of Christ was then my name; And, devoted all to thee, Strangely jealous I became, Jealous of this self in me. Thee to love, and none beside, Was my darling, sole employ; While alternately I died, Now of grief, and now of joy. Through the dark and silent night On thy radiant smiles I dwelt; And to see the dawning light Was the keenest pain I felt. Thou my gracious teacher wert; And thine eye, so close applied, While it watched thy pupil's heart, Seemed to look at none beside. Conscious of no evil drift, This, I cried, is love indeed— 'Tis the giver, not the gift, Whence the joys I feel proceed. But, soon humbled and laid low, Stript of all thou hast conferred, Nothing left but sin and woe, I perceived how I had erred. Oh, the vain conceit of man, Dreaming of a good his own, Arrogating all he can, Though the Lord is good alone! He the graces thou hast wrought Makes subservient to his pride; Ignorant that one such thought Passes all his sin beside. Such his folly—proved, at last By the loss of that repose, Self–complacence cannot taste, Only love divine bestows. 'Tis by this reproof severe, And by this reproof alone, His defects at last appear, Man is to himself made known. Learn, all earth! that feeble man, Sprung from this terrestrial clod, Nothing is, and nothing can; Life and power are all in God. Languages: English

"I love the Lord," is still the strain

Author: Madame Guyon; William Cowper Hymnal: TFG #36 (1800) Person Name: Madame Guyon First Line: "I love the Lord" is still the strain Lyrics: “I love the Lord,” is still the strain This heart delights to sing: But I reply—your thoughts are vain, Perhaps 'tis no such thing. Before the power of love divine Creation fades away; Till only God is seen to shine In all that we survey. In gulfs of awful night we find The God of our desires; 'Tis there he stamps the yielding mind, And doubles all its fires. Flames of encircling love invest, And pierce it sweetly through; 'Tis filled with sacred joy, yet pressed With sacred sorrow too. Ah love! my heart is in the right— Amidst a thousand woes, To thee, its ever new delight, And all its peace it owes. Fresh causes of distress occur Where'er I look or move; The comforts I to all prefer Are solitude and love. Nor exile I nor prison fear; Love makes my courage great; I find a Saviour every where, His grace in every state. Nor castle walls, nor dungeons deep, Exclude his quickening beams; There I can sit, and sing, and weep, And dwell on heavenly themes. There sorrow, for his sake, is found A joy beyond compare; There no presumptuous thoughts abound, No pride can enter there. A Saviour doubles all my joys, And sweetens all my pains, His strength in my defence employs, Consoles me and sustains. I fear no ill, resent no wrong; Nor feel a passion move, When malice whets her slanderous tongue; Such patience is in love. Languages: English

Wilds horrid and dark with o'er shadowing trees

Author: Madame Guyon; William Cowper Hymnal: TFG #37 (1800) Person Name: Madame Guyon Lyrics: Wilds horrid and dark with o'er shadowing trees, Rocks that ivy and briers infold, Scenes nature with dread and astonishment sees, But I with a pleasure untold; Though awfully silent, and shaggy, and rude, I am charmed with the peace ye afford; Your shades are a temple where none will intrude, The abode of my lover and Lord. I am sick of thy splendour, O fountain of day, And here I am hid from its beams, Here safely contemplate a brighter display Of the noblest and holiest of themes. Ye forests, that yield me my sweetest repose, Where stillness and solitude reign, To you I securely and boldly disclose The dear anguish of which I complain. Here, sweetly forgetting and wholly forgot By the world and its turbulent throng, The birds and the streams lend me many a note That aids meditation and song. Here, wandering in scenes that are sacred to night, Love wears me and wastes me away, And often the sun has spent much of his light Ere yet I perceive it is day. While a mantle of darkness envelops the sphere, My sorrows are sadly rehearsed, To me the dark hours are all equally dear, And the last is as sweet as the first. Here I and the beasts of the deserts agree, Mankind are the wolves that I fear, They grudge me my natural right to be free, But nobody questions it here. Though little is found in this dreary abode That appetite wishes to find, My spirit is soothed by the presence of God, And appetite wholly resigned. Ye desolate scenes, to your solitude led, My life I in praises employ, And scarce know the source of the tears that I shed, Proceed they from sorrow or joy. There's nothing I seem to have skill to discern, I feel out my way in the dark, Love reigns in my bosom, I constantly burn, Yet hardly distinguish the spark. I live, yet I seem to myself to be dead, Such a riddle is not to be found, I am nourished without knowing how I am fed, I have nothing, and yet I abound. Oh, love! who in darkness art pleased to abide, Though dimly, yet surely I see That these contrarieties only reside In the soul that is chosen of thee. Ah! send me not back to the race of mankind, Perversely by folly beguiled, For where, in the crowds I have left, shall I find The spirit and heart of a child? Here let me, though fixed in a desert, be free; A little one whom they despise, Though lost to the world, if in union with thee, Shall be holy, and happy, and wise. Languages: English