THE HARP OF P1TCAIRN. 351 
hope, of which the accompanying verses are the 
substance. 
You ask how I feel in the prospect of death, 
And whether the grave lias no terrors for me ? 
If bright are my hopes, and unshaken my faith, 
And to whom for relief in my sufferings I flee ? 
The, questions are weighty, and. I am so weak, 
Yet will I endeavour an answer to give ; 
And this is the substance of what I would speak— 
I believe, I believe. 
On the brink of the grave it has pleased my Lord 
To keep me long waiting the word to depart ; 
And though for dismission I oft have implored, 
Yet He has forgiven the thought of my heart. 
Though often impatient and prone to complain, 
Much love hi this chastening 1 plainly perceive, 
Our Father afflicts not his children in vain : 
I believe, 1 believe. 
This body so wasted by ling'ring disease, 
That scarce to the worms it can furnish a meal, 
Insatiate death as a trophy may seize, 
And in me the sad fruits of transgression reveal : 
But must I for ever continue his prey ? 
No, — Jesus my dust from his grasp shall retrieve ; 
The call to arise 1 shall gladly obey: 
I believe, I believe. - 
I know, on this earth my Redeemer shall stand, 
And these eyes, though now dim, shall his glories behold ; 
My powers so reduced shall with knowledge expand, 
And this heart throb with rapture, which now beats so 
cold :— 
His voice I shall hear, and in accents divine, 
Shall I, then made worthy, a welcome receive ; 
In his presence to dwell 'twill for ever be mine : 
I believe, I believe. 
Z 
