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.
Rebuilt by His command,
Jerusalem shall rise;
Her temple on Moriah stand
Again, and touch the skies.
Send then thy servants forth,
To call the Hebrews home;
From east and west, and south and north,
Let all the wanderers come.
With Israel's myriads seal'd
Let all the nations meet,
And show the mystery fulfill'd,
The family complete.
* * * * *
Teach me Aaron's thoughtful silence
When corrected by the rod;
Teach me Eli's acquiescence,
Saying, "Do thy will, my God;"
Teach me Job's confiding patience,
Dreading words from pride that flow,
For thou, Lord, alone exaltest,
And thou only layest low.
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