On News

News from a foreign country came,As if my treasure and my wealth lay there:So much it did my heart enflame'Twas wont to call my soul into mine ear,Which thither went to meetThe approaching sweet,And on the threshold stood,To entertain the unknown Good.It hovered thereAs if 'twould leave mine ear,And was so eager to embraceThe joyful tidings as they came,'Twould almost leave its dwelling-place,To entertain that same.

As if the tidings were the things,My very joys themselves, my foreign treasure,Or else did bear them on their wings;With so much joy they came, with so much pleasure.My Soul stood at that gateTo recreateItself with bliss: And toBe pleased with speed. A fuller viewIt fain would take,Yet journeys back would makeUnto my heart: as if 'twould fainGo out to meet, yet stay withinTo fit a place, to entertain,And bring the tidings in.

What sacred instinct did inspireMy Soul in childhood with a hope so strong?What secret force mov'd my desireTo expect my joys beyond the seas, so young?Felicity I knewWas out of view:And being here alone,I saw that happiness was goneFrom me! For this,I thirsted absent bliss,And thought that sure beyond the seas,Or else in something near at handI knew not yet, (since nought did pleaseI knew) my Bliss did stand.

But little did the infant dreamThat all the treasures of the world were by:And that himself was so the creamAnd crown of all which round about did lie.Yet thus it was: The gem,The diadem,The ring enclosing allThat stood upon this earthly ball;The Heavenly Eye,Much wider than the sky,Wherein they all included were,The glorious Soul that was the KingMade to possess them, did appearA small and little thing!

A life of Sabbaths here beneath!Continual Jubilees and Joys!The days of Heaven, while we breatheOn Earth! where sin all bliss destroys:This is a triumph of delightsThat doth exceed all appetites!No joy can be compared to this,It is a life of perfect bliss.

Or perfect bliss! How can it be?To conquer Satan and to reignIn such a vale of misery,Where vipers, stings and tears remain,Is to be crowned with victory.To be content, divine, and freeEven here beneath is great delight,And next the beatific sight.

But inward lusts do oft assail,Temptations work us much annoy;We'll therefore weep, and to prevailShall be a more celestial joy.To have no other enemyBut one; and to that one to die:To fight with that and conquer it,Is better than in peace to sit.

'Tis better for a little time:For he that all his lusts doth quell,Shall find this life to be his prime,And vanquish sin and conquer hell.The next shall be his double joy,And that which here seemed to destroyShall in the other life appearA root of Bliss; a pearl each tear.

Sin!O only fatal woe,That makes me sad and mourning go!That all my joys dost spoil,His Kingdom and my Soul defile!I never can agreeWith Thee.

Thou!Only Thou! O Thou alone,And my obdurate Heart of Stone,The poison and the foesOr my enjoyments and repose,The only bitter ill:Dost kill!

Oh!I cannot meet with thee,Nor once approach thy memory,But all my joys are dead,And all my sacred treasures fled,As if I now did dwellIn Hell.

Lord!O hear how short I breathe!See how I tremble here beneathA sin! its ugly faceMore terror than its dwelling-placeContains, (O dreadful sin)Within!