English poem
True Pleasures.
Lord, my soul with pleasure springs, When Jesus' name I hear; And when God the Spirit brings The word of promise near: Beauties too, in holiness, Still delighted I perceive; Nor have words that can express The joys thy precepts give. Clothed in sanctity and grace, How sweet it is to see Those who love thee as they pass, Or when they wait on thee: Pleasant too, to sit and tell What we owe to love divine; Till our bosoms grateful swell, And eyes begin to shine. Those the comforts I possess, Which God shall still increase, All his ways are pleasantness, And all his paths are peace. Nothing Jesus did or spoke, Henceforth let me ever slight; For I love his easy yoke, And find his burden light.
More by William Cowper
- To Warren Hastings, Esq. By An Old Schoolfellow Of His At Westminster.
- To William Hayley, Esq.
- Translations Of The Italian Poems
- True And False Comforts.
- Upon a Venerable Rival
- Vanity Of The World
- Verses Addressed To A Country Clergyman, Complaining Of The Disagreeableness Of The Day Annually Appointed For Receiving The Dues At The Parsonage
- Verses Printed By Himself, On A Flood At Olney.