Cowper where is the blessedness

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Ad revenue helps keep us running. Add to list. William Cowper Follow. Olney Hymn 1: Walking With God. Where is the blessedness I knew When first I saw the Lord? Where is the soul-refreshing view Of Jesus and his word? What peaceful hours I once enjoyed! How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void, The world can never fill. Return, O holy Dove, return! Sweet the messenger of rest!

I hate the sins that made thee mourn And drove thee from my breast. How sweet their memory still! But they have left an aching void, The world can never fill. Return, O holy Dove, return! Sweet the messenger of rest! I hate the sins that made thee mourn And drove thee from my breast.

The dearest idol I have known, Whate'er that idol be, Help me to tear it from thy throne, And worship only thee. So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame; So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb. From Olney Hymns by William Cowper. This poem is in the public domain. Hatred and vengeance, my eternal portion Hatred and vengeance, my eternal portion, Scarce can endure delay of execution, Wait, with impatient readiness, to seize my Soul in a moment. Damned below Judas: more abhorred than he was, Who for a few pence sold his holy Master.

Twice betrayed Jesus me, this last delinquent, Deems the profanest. Man disavows, and Deity disowns me: Hell might afford my miseries a shelter; Therefore hell keeps her ever hungry mouths all Bolted against me.

Hard lot! Him the vindictive rod of angry justice Sent quick and howling to the center headlong; I, fed with judgment, in a fleshly tomb, am Buried above ground. William Cowper The Castaway Obscurest night involved the sky, The Atlantic billows roared, When such a destined wretch as I, Washed headlong from on board, Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, His floating home forever left. No braver chief could Albion boast Than he with whom he went, Nor ever ship left Albion's coast, With warmer wishes sent.

He loved them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her again. Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay; Nor soon he felt his strength decline, Or courage die away; But waged with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life. He shouted: nor his friends had failed To check the vessel's course, But so the furious blast prevailed, That, pitiless perforce, They left their outcast mate behind, And scudded still before the wind.

Some succour yet they could afford; And, such as storms allow, The cask, the coop, the floated cord, Delayed not to bestow. But he they knew nor ship, nor shore, Whatever they gave, should visit more. Nor, cruel as it seemed, could he Their haste himself condemn, Aware that flight, in such a sea, Alone could rescue them; Yet bitter felt it still to die Deserted, and his friends so nigh.