Chapter 111 of 134

LIII. MY SOUL THIRSTETH FOR GOD.

The Works of William Cowper: His life, letters, and poems, now first completed by the introduction of Cowper's private correspondence · William Cowper

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I thirst, but not as once I did, The vain delights of earth to share; Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid That I should seek my pleasures there.

It was the sight of thy dear cross First wean'd my soul from earthly things; And taught me to esteem as dross The mirth of fools and pomp of kings.

I want that grace that springs from thee, That quickens all things where it flows, And makes a wretched thorn like me Bloom as the myrtle or the rose.

Dear fountain of delight unknown! No longer sink below the brim; But overflow, and pour me down A living and life-giving stream!

For sure, of all the plants that share The notice of thy Father's eye, None proves less grateful to his care, Or yields him meaner fruit than I.