CXXIX. Happy Poverty, or poor in Spirit

1 Ye humble souls, complain no more,
Let faith survey your future store;
How happy, how divinely blest,
The sacred words of truth attest.

2 When conscious grief laments sincere,
And pours the penitential tear,
Hope points to your dejected eyes,
The bright reversion in the skies.

3 In vain the sons of wealth and pride
Despise your lot, your hopes deride;
In vain they boast their little stores,
Trifles are theirs, a kingdom yours.

4 A kingdom of immense delight,
Where health, and peace, and joy unite;
Where undeclining pleasures rise,
And every wish hath full supplies.

5 There shall your eyes with rapture view
The glorious friend that dy'd for you;
That dy'd to ransom, dy'd to raise
To crowns of joy, and songs of praise.

6 Jesus, to thee I breathe my prayer;
Reveal, confirm my interest there:
Whate'er my humble lot below,
This, this my soul desires to know!

7 O let me hear that voice divine
Pronounce the glorious blessing mine!
Enroll'd among thy happy poor,
My largest wishes ask no more.

Text Information
First Line: Ye humble souls, complain no more
Title: Happy Poverty, or poor in Spirit
Author: Steele
Meter: L. M.
Language: English
Publication Date: 1793
Topic: Graces
Tune Information
(No tune information)



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