Jehovah, the God of the Spirits of All Flesh

Jehovah, the God of the Spirits of All Flesh
 
Father, thy gracious hand we own,
And bow submissive to thy rod:
That must be wise which thou hast done:
It must be kind, for thou art God!
 
The God from whom our spirits came,
The Builder of this house of clay;
Jehovah is thine awful name,
And life and death thy word obey.
 
Thy love to each his place assigns,
His time, his portion, here below;
Thy wisdom in his lot combines
The varied scenes of joy or woe.
 
Though life to darken’d minds appears
A desert rude, a trackless waste;
A land of sorrows, griefs, and fears,
Where Chaos wild his throne has placed:
 
Not so the Christian’s eye surveys
The various ills that round him rise;
For, leading through the doubtful maze,
He marks a passage to the skies.
 
He knows from God his spirit came,
And upwards to his Source aspires,
A spark of heaven’s ethereal flame,
To burn and shine when life expires.
 
Call’d forth to life at thy command,
Whose eye at once all being views;
Bade in the appointed lot to stand,
Which best shall to the end conduce:
 
Though pain and grief to man allied,
With him their certain kindred claim;
Though, flesh and spirit to divide,
Death take his sure and steadfast aim;
 
Yet shall not grief the soul invade,
Or pale disease the flesh confine;
Nor death within his awful shade
Unnoticed hide a child of thine!
 
No; not the monster’s utmost power
Can crush an infant’s feeble frame;
Or harshly break the beauteous flower,
Just bursting to the solar beam.
 
Not so the Christian’s eye surveys
The various ills that round him rise;
For, leading through the doubtful maze,
He marks a passage to the skies.
 
He knows from God his spirit came,
And upwards to his Source aspires,
A spark of heaven’s ethereal flame,
To burn and shine when life expires.
 
Call’d forth to life at thy command,
Whose eye at once all being views;
Bade in the appointed lot to stand,
Which best shall to the end conduce:
 
Though pain and grief to man allied,
With him their certain kindred claim;
Though, flesh and spirit to divide,
Death take his sure and steadfast aim;
 
Yet shall not grief the soul invade,
Or pale disease the flesh confine;
Nor death within his awful shade
Unnoticed hide a child of thine!
 
No; not the monster’s utmost power
Can crush an infant’s feeble frame;
Or harshly break the beauteous flower,
Just bursting to the solar beam.
 
Their breath resumed at thy command,
To thee their angel-spirits rise;
The plants that could not here expand
Shall bloom immortal in the skies.
 
Nor should the boon of life, assign’d
For purposes so vast and high,
Have been to such a space confined,
That ere they fully live, they die;
 
Had not He known whose name is love,
When gathering clouds the skies deform,
His plants, unless safe housed above,
Would fall before the wintry storm.
 
Still flows the sad, the tender tear:
Yes, though the Christian meekly bends,
From parents o’er their children’s bier
The unforbidden grief descends;
 
Yet holy hope, with sacred joy,
Anticipates that hour to come,
When cherub-children shall convey
Their spirits to their heavenly home.
 
Yes; when fulfill’d the wider sphere,
Assign’d them by thy sovereign grace,
They too shall in thy house appear,
And bow before their Father’s face.
 
There, bending at thine awful feet,
Their long-lost little ones receive;
Nor those alone, but gladly greet
Whom now thy mercy spares to live.
 
Bound in the lot of endless bliss,
With joy may they their charge resign,
Their triumph in that day be this, —
“O Lord, our children all are thine!”

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