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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=537930" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Vicissitudes Experienced In The Christian Life</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I suffer fruitless anguish day by day,<br>Each moment, as it passes, marks my pain;<br>Scarce knowing whither, doubtfully I stray,<br>And see no end of all that I sustain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The more I strive the more I am withstood;<br>Anxiety increasing every hour<br>My spirit finds no rest, performs no good,<br>And nought remains of all my former power.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My peace of heart is fled, I know not where;<br>My happy hours, like shadows, passed away;<br>Their sweet remembrance doubles all my care;<br>Night darker seems, succeeding such a day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear faded joys and impotent regret,<br>What profit is there in incessant tears?<br>Oh thou, whom, once beheld, we ne'er forget,<br>Reveal thy love, and banish all my fears!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! he flies me--treats me as his foe,<br>Views not my sorrows, hears not when I plead;<br>Woe such as mine, despised, neglected woe,<br>Unless it shortens life, is vain indeed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pierced with a thousand wounds, I yet survive;<br>My pangs are keen, but no complaint transpires<br>And, while in terrors of thy wrath I live,<br>Hell seems to loose it less tremendous fires.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Has hell a pain I would not gladly bear,<br>So thy severe displeasure might subside?<br>Hopeless of ease, I seem already there,<br>My life extinguished, and yet death denied.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is this the joy so promised--this the love,<br>The unchanging love, so sworn in better days?<br>Ah! dangerous glories! shewn me, but to prove<br>How lovely thou, and I how rash to gaze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why did I see them? had I still remained<br>Untaught, still ignorant how fair thou art,<br>My humbler wishes I had soon obtained,<br>Nor known the torments of a doubting heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deprived of all, yet feeling no desires,<br>Whence then, I cry, the pangs that I sustain<br>Dubious and uninformed, my soul inquires,<br>Ought she to cherish or shake off her pain?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Suffering, I suffer not--sincerely love,<br>Yet feel no touch of that enlivening flame;<br>As chance inclines me, unconcerned I move,<br>All times, and all events, to me the same.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I search my heart, and not a wish is there<br>But burns with zeal that hated self may fall;<br>Such is the sad disquietude I share,<br>A sea of doubts, and self the source of all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I ask not life, nor do I wish to die;<br>And, if thine hand accomplish not my cure,<br>I would not purchase with a single sigh<br>A free discharge from all that I endure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I groan in chains, yet want not a release;<br>Am sick, and know not the distempered part;<br>Am just as void of purpose as of peace;<br>Have neither plan, nor fear, nor hope, nor heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My claim to life, though sought with earnest care,<br>No light within me, or without me, shews;<br>Once I had faith, but now in self–despair<br>Find my chief cordial and my best repose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My soul is a forgotten thing; she sinks,<br>Sinks and is lost, without a wish to rise;<br>Feels an indifference she abhors, and thinks<br>Her name erased for ever from the skies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Language affords not my distress a name,--<br>Yet it is real and no sickly dream;<br>'Tis love inflicts it; though to feel that flame<br>Is all I know of happiness supreme.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When love departs, a chaos wide and vast,<br>And dark as hell, is opened in the soul;<br>When love returns, the gloomy scene is past,<br>No tempests shake her, and no fears control.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then tell me why these ages of delay?<br>Oh love, all–excellent, once more appear;<br>Disperse the shades, and snatch me into day,<br>From this abyss of night, these floods of fear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No--love is angry, will not now endure<br>A sigh of mine, or suffer a complaint;<br>He smites me, wounds me, and withholds the cure;<br>Exhausts my powers, and leaves me sick and faint.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He wounds, and hides the hand that gave the blow;<br>He flies, he re–appears, and wounds again--<br>Was ever heart that loved thee treated so?<br>Yet I adore thee, though it seem in vain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And wilt thou leave me, whom, when lost and blind,<br>Thou didst distinguish and vouchsafe to choose,<br>Before thy laws were written in my mind,<br>While yet the world had all my thoughts and views?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now leave me, when, enamoured of thy laws,<br>I make thy glory my supreme delight?<br>Now blot me from thy register, and cause<br>A faithful soul to perish from thy sight? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">What can have caused the change which I deplore?<br>Is it to prove me, if my heart be true?<br>Permit me then, while prostrate I adore,<br>To draw, and place its picture in thy view.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis thine without reserve, most simply thine;<br>So given to thee, that it is not my own;<br>A willing captive of thy grace divine;<br>And loves, and seeks thee, for thyself alone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pain cannot move it, danger cannot scare;<br>Pleasure and wealth, in its esteem, are dust;<br>It loves thee, e'en when least inclined to spare<br>Its tenderest feelings, and avows thee just.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis all thine own; my spirit is so too,<br>An undivided offering at thy shrine;<br>It seeks thy glory with no double view,<br>Thy glory, with no secret bent to mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love, holy love! and art thou not severe,<br>To slight me, thus devoted, and thus fixed?<br>Mine is an everlasting ardour, clear<br>From all self–bias, generous and unmixed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I am silent, seeing what I see--<br>And fear, with cause, that I am self–deceived,<br>Not e'en my faith is from suspicion free,<br>And that I love seems not to be believed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Live thou, and reign for ever, glorious Lord!<br>My last, least offering I present thee now—<br>Renounce me, leave me, and be still adored!<br>Slay me, my God, and I applaud the blow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cowper">William Cowper</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=537930" data-title="The Vicissitudes Experienced In The Christian Life de William Cowper" data-description="I suffer fruitless anguish day by day,
Each moment, as it passes, marks my pain;
Scarce knowing whither, doubtfully I stray,
And see no end of all that I sustain.

The more I strive the more I am withstood;
Anxiety increasing every hour
My spirit ..."></div>
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