Soul Inspiring Poems

While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and slept. And at midnight
there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him.”-
Matt. 25:5-6.

How long, O Lord, our Savior,
Wilt Thou remain away?
The careless world is mocking
At Thy so long delay.
Oh, when shall come the moment,
When, brighter far than morn,
The sunshine of Thy glory
Shall on Thy people dawn?

How long, O gracious Master,
Wilt Thou Thy household leave?
So long Thou now hast tarried,
Few Thy return believe:
Immersed in sloth and folly,
Thy servants, Lord, we see;
And few of us stand ready
With joy to welcome Thee.

How long, O Heav’nly Bridegroom!
How long wilt Thou delay?
And yet how few are grieving
That Thou dost absent stay:
Thy very Bride her portion
And calling hath forgot,
And seeks for ease and glory
Where Thou, her Lord, art not.

Oh, wake the slumb’ring virgins,
To heed the solemn cry;
Let all Thy saints repeat it-
“The Bridegroom draweth nigh!”
May all our lamps be burning,
Our loins well girded be;
Each longing heart preparing
With joy Thy face to see.
                       Deck
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Ascend, Beloved, to the joy;
The festal day is come:
Tonight the Lamb doth feast his own,
Tonight he with his bride sits down,
Tonight puts on the spousal crown,
In the great upper room.

Ascend, Beloved, to the love;
This is the day of days:
Tonight the bridal-song is sung,
Tonight ten thousand harps are strung,
In sympathy with heart and tongue,
Unto the Lamb's high praise.

The festal lamps are lighted now
In the great marriage-hall;
By angel-hands the board is spread,
By angel-hands the sacred bread
Is on the golden table laid;
The King his own doth call.

The gems are gleaming from the roof,
Like stars in night's round dome;
The festal wreaths are hanging there,
The festal fragrance fills the air,
And flowers of heaven, divinely fair,
Unfold their happy bloom.

Long, long deferred, now come at last,
The Lamb's glad wedding day;
The guests are gathering to the feast,
The seats in heavenly order placed,
The royal throne above the rest;—
How bright the new array!

Sorrow and sighing are no more,
The weeping hours are past;
Tonight the waiting will be done,
Tonight the wedding-robe put on,
The glory and the joy begun;
The crown has come at last.

Without, within, is light, is light;
Around, above, is Love:
We enter, to go out no more,
We raise the song unsung before,
We doff the sackcloth that we wore;
For all is joy above.

Ascend. Beloved, to the life;
Our days of death are o'er;
Mortality has done its worst,
The fetters of the tomb are burst,
The last are now become the first,
For ever, evermore.

Ascend, Beloved, to the feast;
Make haste, thy day has come;
Thrice blest are they, the Lamb doth call,
To share the heavenly festival,
In the new Salem's palace-hall,
Our everlasting home!       
                        Horatius Bonar
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God doth not bid thee wait
To disappoint at last;
A golden promise, fair and great,
In precept-mould is cast.
Soon shall the morning gild
The dark horizon-rim,
Thy heart's desire shall be fulfilled,
'Wait patiently for Him.'

God doth not bid thee wait
To disappoint at last;
A golden promise, fair and great.
In precept-mould is cast.
Soon shall the morning gild
The dark horizon-rim,
Thy heart's desire shall be fulfilled,
'Wait patiently for Him.'

He doth not bid thee wait,
Like drift-wood on the wave,
For fickle chance or fixed fate
To ruin or to save.
Thine eyes shall surely see,
No distant hope or dim,
The Lord thy God arise for thee:
Wait patiently for Him.'
                               Havergal
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Acts 1:11

'This same Jesus!'  Oh! how sweetly
Fall those words upon the ear,
Like a swell of far off music,
In a nightwatch still and drear!

He who healed the hopeless leper,
He who dried the widow's tear;
He who changed to health and gladness
Helpless suffering, trembling fear;

He who wandered, poor and homeless,
By the stormy Galilee;
He who on the night-robed mountain
Bent in prayer the wearied knee;

He who spake as none had spoken,
Angel-wisdom far above,
All-forgiving, ne'er upbraiding,
Full of tenderness and love;

He who gently called the weary,
'Come and I will give you rest!'
He who loved the little children,
Took them in His arms and blest;

He, the lonely Man of sorrows,
'Neath our sin-curse bending low;
By His faithless friends forsaken
In the darkest hours of woe;—

'This same Jesus!'  When the vision
Of that last and awful day
Bursts upon the prostrate spirit,
Like a midnight lightning ray;

When, else dimly apprehended,
All its terrors seem revealed,
Trumpet knell and fiery heavens,
And the books of doom unsealed;

Then, we lift our hearts adoring
'This same Jesus,' loved and known.
Him, our own most gracious Saviour,
Seated on the great white Throne;

He Himself, and 'not another,'
He for whom our heart-love yearned
Through long years of twilight waiting,
To His ransomed ones returned!

For this word, O Lord, we bless Thee,
Bless our Master's changeless name;
Yesterday, to-day, for ever,
Jesus Christ is still the Same.
                                     Havergal
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Our heavenly Father calls,
And Christ invites us near;
With both our friendship shall be sweet,
And our communion dear.

God pities all our griefs;
He pardons every day;
Almighty to protect our souls,
And wise to guide our way.

How large his bounties are;
What various stores of good,
Diffus'd from our Redeemer's hand,
And purchas'd with his blood!

Jesus, our living Head,
We bless thy faithful care;
Our Advocate before the throne,
And our Forerunner there.

Here fix, my roving heart!
Here wait, my warmest love!
Till the communion be complete
In nobler scenes above.
                                Dr. Doddridge
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My soul, with joy attend,
While Jesus silence breaks;
No angel’s harp such music yields
As what my Shepherd speaks.

“I know my sheep,” he cries,
“My soul approves them well:
Vain is the treacherous world’s disguise,
And vain the rage of hell.

“I freely feed them now
With tokens of my love;
But richer pastures I prepare,
And sweeter streams above.

“Unnumber’d years of bliss
I to my sheep will give;
And while my throne unshaken stands,
Shall all my chosen live.

“This tried Almighty hand
Is rais’d for their defence:
Where is the power shall reach them there.
Or what shall force them thence?”

Enough, my gracious Lord,
Let faith triumphant cry;
My heart can on this promise live,
Can on this promise die.
                                     Dr. Doddridge
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Afflicted saint, to Christ draw near,
Thy Saviour's gracious promise hear;
His faithful word declares to thee
That, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

Let not thy heart despond, and say,
How shall I stand the trying day?
He has engaged, by firm decree,
That, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

Thy faith is weak, thy foes are strong;
And, if the conflict should be long,
Thy Lord will make the tempter flee;
For, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

Should persecution rage and flame,
Still trust in thy Redeemer's name;
In fiery trials thou shalt see
That, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

When call'd to bear the weighty cross,
Or sore affliction, pain, or loss,
Or deep distress, or poverty—
Still, as thy days, thy strength shall be.

When ghastly death appears in view,
Christ's presence shall thy fears subdue;
He comes to set thy spirit free;
And, as thy days, thy strength shall be.
                                                         Fawcett
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Kind are the words that Jesus speaks
To cheer the drooping saint;
“My grace sufficient is for you,
Though nature’s powers may faint.

“My grace its glories shall display,
And make your griefs remove:
Your weakness shall the triumphs tell
Of boundless power and love.”

What though my griefs are not remov’d,
Yet why should I despair?
While my kind Saviour’s arms support,
I can the burden bear.

Jesus, my Saviour, and my Lord,
‘Tis good to trust thy name:
Thy power, thy faithfulness, and love,
Will ever be the same.

Weak as I am, yet through thy grace,
I all things can perform:
And, smiling, triumph in thy name
Amid the raging storm.
                                   Needham
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Ye little flock whom Jesus feeds,
Dismiss your anxious cares;
Look to the Shepherd of your souls,
And smile away your fears.

Though wolves and lions prowl around,
His staff is your defence:
Midst sands and rocks, your Shepherd's voice
Calls streams and pastures thence.

Your Father will a kingdom give,
And give it with delight;
His feeblest child his love shall call
To triumph in his sight.

(Ten thousand praises, Lord, we bring
For sure supports like these:
And o'er the pious dead we sing
Thy living promises.

For all we hope, and they enjoy,
We bless the Saviour's name:
Nor shall that stroke disturb the song
Which breaks this mortal frame.)
                                     Dr. Doddridge
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Awake, sweet gratitude! and sing
Th’ ascended Saviour’s love;
Sing how he lives to carry on
His people’s cause above.

With cries and tears, he offer’d up
His humble suit below;
But with authority he asks,
Enthron’'d in glory now.

For all that come to God by him,
Salvation he demands;
Points to their names upon his breast,
And spreads his wounded hands.

His sweet atoning sacrifice
Gives sanction to his claim:
“Father, I will that all my saints
Be with me where I am:

“By their salvation, recompense
The sorrows I endur’d:
Just to the merits of thy Son,
And faithful to thy word.”

Eternal life, at his request,
To every saint is given;
Safety below, and after death,
The plenitude of heaven.

(Founded on right, thy prayer avails;
The Father smiles on thee;
And now thou in thy kingdom art,
Dear Lord, remember me.

Let the much incense of thy prayer
In my behalf ascend;
And, as its virtue, so my praise
Shall never, never end.)
                                 Toplady
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Now let our cheerful eyes survey
Our great High-priest above,
And celebrate his constant care
And sympathetic love.

Though rais’d to a superior throne,
Where angels bow around,
And high o’er all the shining train,
With matchless honours crown’d;

The names of all his saints he bears
Deep graven on his heart;
Nor shall the meanest Christian say
That he hath lost his part.

Those characters shall fair abide,
Our everlasting trust,
When gems, and monuments, and crowns
Are moulder’d down to dust.

So, gracious Saviour! on my breast
May thy dear name be worn,—
A sacred ornament and guard,
To endless ages borne!
                                Dr. Doddridge
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Depraved minds on ashes feed,
Nor love nor seek for heavenly bread;
They choose the husks which swine do eat,
Or meanly crave the serpent’s meat.

Jesus! thou art the living bread
By which our needy souls are fed:
In thee alone thy children find
Enough to fill the empty mind.

Without this bread, I starve and die;
No other can my need supply:
But this will suit my wretched case,
Abroad, at home, in every place.

‘Tis this relieves the hungry poor
Who ask for bread at mercy’s door;
This living food descends from heav’n,
As manna to the Jews was giv’n.

This precious food my heart revives;
What strength, what nourishment it gives!
O let me evermore be fed
With this divine celestial bread!
                                    Fawcett
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Jesus, the heavenly Lover, gave
His life my wretched soul to save:
Resolv’d to make his mercy known,
He kindly claims me for his own.

Rebellious, I against him strove,
Till melted and constrain’d by love;
With sin and self I freely part,
The heavenly Bridegroom wins my heart.

My guilt, my wretchedness he knows,
Yet takes and owns me for his spouse:
My debts he pays, and sets me free,
And makes his riches o’er to me.

My filthy rags are laid aside,
He clothes me as becomes his bride;
Himself bestows my wedding-dress,—
The robe of perfect righteousness.

Lost in astonishment, I see,
Jesus! thy boundless love to me:
With angels I thy grace adore,
And long to love and praise thee more.

Since thou wilt take me for thy bride,
Saviour, keep me near thy side!
I fain would give thee all my heart,
Nor ever from my Lord depart.
                                Fawcett
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To Christ, the Lord, let every tongue
Its noblest tribute bring:
When he’s the subject of the song,
Who can refuse to sing?

Survey the beauties of his face,
And on his glories dwell;
Think of the wonders of his grace,
And all his triumphs tell.

Majestic sweetness sits enthron’d
Upon his awful brow;
His head with radiant glories crown’d,
His lips with grace o’erflow.

No mortal can with him compare
Among the sons of men:
Fairer he is than all the fair
That fill the heavenly train.

He saw me plung’d in deep distress,
He flew to my relief;
For me he bore the shameful cross;
And carried all my grief.

(His hand a thousand blessings pours
Upon my guilty head;
His presence gilds my darkest hours,
And guards my sleeping bed.

To him I owe my life, and breath,
And all the joys I have:
He makes me triumph over death,
And saves me from the grave.)

To heav’n, the place of his abode,
He brings my weary feet;
Shows me the glories of my God,
And makes my joys complete.

Since from his bounty I receive
Such proofs of love divine,
Had I a thousand hearts to give,
Lord, they should all be thine!
                            Dr. S. Stennett
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Jesus, the Lord, our souls adore!
A painful sufferer now no more,
High on his father’s throne he reigns
O’er earth and heaven's extensive plains.

His race for ever is complete!
For ever undisturb’d his seat;
Myriads of angels round him fly,
And sing his well-gain’d victory.

Yet midst the honours of his throne,
He joys not for himself alone!
His meanest servants share their part,
Share in that royal tender heart.

Raise, raise, my soul, thy raptur’d sight,
With sacred wonder and delight;
Jesus, thy own forerunner, see
Enter’d beyond the vale for thee.

Loud let the howling tempest yell,
And foaming waves to mountains swell;
No shipwreck can my vessel fear,
Since hope hath fix’d its anchor here.
                             Dr. Doddridge