November 3
As sorrowful, yet always rejoicing. 2 Corinthians 6:10
This is the duty, this is the privilege of the Christian. Whether he considers and feels himself in a state of exile, or warfare, or perplexity, or penury, or varying experience, or misapprehension from others, if "sorrowful," he may, and he ought to be able to say, "Yet always rejoicing."
Though dwelling with strangers around,
And foreign and weary the land,
I homeward to Zion am bound—
The day of release is at hand.
Then, Mesech and Kedar, farewell,
To enter my welcome abode:
With friends and with angels to dwell,
With Jesus, my Savior and God!
Though hourly summon'd to arms,
And legions against me combine,
In calm in the midst of alarms.
My weapons and cause are divine.
A Captain almighty I own;
And banner'd by faith in his Name,
I shout ere the battle is won—
I more than a conqueror am!
Perplexings though often I feel,
And mazy the paths that I tread,
My God has been leading me still,
And still he has promised to lead.
The crooked shall all be made straight,
The darkness shall beam into light;
I have but a moment to wait.
And faith shall be turned to sight.
If small my allotment below,
I will not at others repine;
Their joy is the gilding of woe,
Their wealth they must quickly resign.
Though poor, how much richer am I!
In want I have all I desire;
My treasures, the soul can supply,
And last when the stars shall expire!
If, weeping and fearing, I pass
Through changes, in state and in frame;
Yet, constant in power and grace,
My Savior is always the same.
No shadow of turning he knows.
Whose bliss is the fountain of mine;
And while his eternity flows,
My happiness cannot decline.
How little the multitude know,
Or, knowing, how little they prize,
The spring whence my joys ever flow,
Or source of my bitterest sighs!
But both the dear secret reveal,
That Jesus hath soften'd this heart;
And soon all my joys will fulfil,
And bid all my sighing depart.
And foreign and weary the land,
I homeward to Zion am bound—
The day of release is at hand.
Then, Mesech and Kedar, farewell,
To enter my welcome abode:
With friends and with angels to dwell,
With Jesus, my Savior and God!
Though hourly summon'd to arms,
And legions against me combine,
In calm in the midst of alarms.
My weapons and cause are divine.
A Captain almighty I own;
And banner'd by faith in his Name,
I shout ere the battle is won—
I more than a conqueror am!
Perplexings though often I feel,
And mazy the paths that I tread,
My God has been leading me still,
And still he has promised to lead.
The crooked shall all be made straight,
The darkness shall beam into light;
I have but a moment to wait.
And faith shall be turned to sight.
If small my allotment below,
I will not at others repine;
Their joy is the gilding of woe,
Their wealth they must quickly resign.
Though poor, how much richer am I!
In want I have all I desire;
My treasures, the soul can supply,
And last when the stars shall expire!
If, weeping and fearing, I pass
Through changes, in state and in frame;
Yet, constant in power and grace,
My Savior is always the same.
No shadow of turning he knows.
Whose bliss is the fountain of mine;
And while his eternity flows,
My happiness cannot decline.
How little the multitude know,
Or, knowing, how little they prize,
The spring whence my joys ever flow,
Or source of my bitterest sighs!
But both the dear secret reveal,
That Jesus hath soften'd this heart;
And soon all my joys will fulfil,
And bid all my sighing depart.