“It is good for me to draw near to God.” Ps. 73. 28
J. Hart C.M.
As when a child, secure of harms,
Hangs at the mother’s breast,
Safe folded in her anxious arms,
Receiving food and rest:
And, while through many a painful path
The travelling parent speeds,
The fearless babe, with passive faith,
Lies still, and yet proceeds:
Should some short start his quiet break,
He fondly strives to fling
His little arms about her neck,
And seems to closer cling;
Poor child, maternal love alone
Preserves thee, first and last;
Thy parent’s arms, and not thy own,
Are those that hold thee fast!
So souls that would to Jesus cleave,
And hear his secret call,
Must every fair pretension leave,
And let the Lord be all.
“Keep close to me, thou helpless sheep,”
The Shepherd softly cries;
“Lord, tell me what ’tis close to keep,”
The listening sheep replies.
“Thy whole dependence on me fix;
Nor entertain a thought
Thy worthless schemes with mine to mix,
But venture to be nought.
“Fond self-direction is a shelf;
Thy strength, thy wisdom flee;
When thou art nothing in thyself,
Thou then art close to me.”