The Raven, Eating Carrion, Disregards the Ark.
HERE was I until year thirty-three,
When I found Jesus, who died for me;
Whose flesh is meat indeed, and heavenly bread,
To feed the members of their risen Head.
Till then I had not rest―yet knew not why
I had not peace, and would have feared to die;
I knew not then the grace of God had granted
That rest and peace in Jesus which I wanted.
I heard one preaching loudly of the doom
To hell and judgment, and eternal gloom
Of unregenerate men, who yet despise
The word which makes unto salvation wise.
Of Christ the Saviour from another heard,
His grace and life was taught me by a third;
How Jesus died, and why He then was raised:
This met my case, and I looked up and praised.
In a fourth Christian’s course, I found one who
Saw in his Saviour his example too;
His boast was in the Lord, his risen Head,
As very man who suffered in his stead.
I then believed redemption’s work so true,
That it could fully save a sinful crew
Of such as I, were they but found relying
On Jesus’ death, and what His end in dying.
And so referred my sins to Jesus’ blood,
A weight which more than counterpoised their load;
He recompensed for sin when on the tree,
That grace―not sin―might have the victory.
This is my rock―on this I take my stand,
Which popes and cardinals do count but sand;
The saints of old found that a sure foundation,
Which modern Roman priests count innovation.
The Dove Flies to the Ark, and Noah Takes it in.
Here have I been since year thirty-three,
And shall be safe for all eternity;
I found in Jesus refuge from the flood,
From conscience, guilt, an answer in His blood.
Then heard I one who preached the liberty
Of those in Christ, from curse and judgment free;
Who, cause He died to sin, and rose again
As risen with Him, are free from death and pain.
He also led me to a closer view
Of what’s the church, and Scriptural order true;
But overzeal for church, I found, did tend
The mind from Christ, the object, center, end.
When saints make fine drawn thoughts of church and creed,
The gathering point on which to be agreed,
Instead of Christ Himself, their risen life,
Then dogmas wither love and gender strife.
Let Christians learn to find in Christ alone
Their common bond of union―e’en the stone;
In whom as living stones they’re joined forever,
By bonds which all the powers of hell can’t sever.
Those men have passed away, but He remains
The risen Head of life, and those sustains
Who live on Him by faith; who for them died,
When in their stead condemned and crucified.
Some men yet live whom I could put in rhyme,
But saints thrive best who get no praise in time;
Let saints, while living, serve the Lord they love,
And when they’re gone their works will not remove
If I might dare to set this law aside,
I’d name the names of those so crucified;
They’re willing to be naught, and least of all,
If only Christ their Lord be all in all.
But stop: the praise of living men, though true,
May yet be proved absurd by what they do.