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ASPIRATIONS OF A NEW CONVERT
I wish I were as pure, as fair to view,
As yonder blossom, sparkling with the dew;
But then I could not wear my snowy dress,
The Savior’s gift—his robe of righteousness.
I wish I were like mountains, towering high,
Strong and majestic, piercing cloud and sky;
But then I could not feel my weakness thrill
With strength to do my blessed Master’s will.
I wish my life were placid as yon lake,
Unmoved by storms that o’er the ocean break;
But could I realize such rest and peace
As when the Master bids my troubles cease?
Lord, all my wishes, all my heart’s desires
Find consummation when the world retires,
And Thou before my raptured gaze dost stand,
In perfectness complete, a pattern grand.
Ah! would I were, my blessed Lord, like thee!
Then should my heart thy fragrant garden be!
Then should my prayers past mountain tops ascend,
My peace be fathomless, my joy attained.
For Thee leapt high the sacrificial fire,
Let it of me my cleansed parts require!
Into Thy nostrils let the incense rise,
A token of accepted sacrifice!
—R. B. HENNINGES.
— February 1, 1899 —
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