Oh, how the thought of God attracts
And draws the heart from earth,
And sickens it of passing shows
And dissipating mirth!
'Tis not enough to save our souls,
To shun th' eternal fires;
The thought of God will rouse the heart
To more sublime desires.
God only is the creature's home,
Though rough and straight the road;
Yet nothing less can satisfy
The love that longs for God.
Oh, utter but the Name of God
Down in your heart of hearts,
And see how from the world at once
All tempting light departs.
A trusting heart, a yearning eye,
Can win their way above;
If mountains can be moved by faith,
Is there less power in love?
How little of that road, my soul!
How little hast thou gone!
Take heart, and let the thought of God
Allure thee further on.
The freedom from all willful sin,
The Christian's daily task;
Oh! These are graces far below
What longing love would ask!
The perfect way is hard to flesh;
It is not hard to love;
If thou wert sick from want of God,
How swiftly wouldst thou move!
Then keep thy conscience sensitive;
No inward token miss:
And go where grace entices thee —
Perfection lies in this.