48 BAXTER'S POEMS. While he is mine, I'll be content, To beg or lack my daily bread. Heav'n is my roof, earth is my floor. Thy love can keep me dry and warm. Christ and thy bounty are my store : Thy angels guard me from all harm. As for my friends they are not lost : The several vessels of thy fleet, Though parted now by tempests tost, Shall safely in the heav'n meet. Still we are centred all in thee; Members tho' distant, of one head: In the same family we be, By the same faith and spirit led. Before thy throne we daily meet, As joint petition.ers to thee: · In spirit we each other greet, And shall again each other see. The heavenly hosts world without end Shall be I~Y company above : And thou, my best and surest friend: Who shall divide me from thy love ? Must I forsake the soil and air, Where first I drew my vital breath? That way may be as near and fair : Thence I may come to thee by death. All countries are my father's lands: Thy son, thy love doth shine on all: We may in all lift up pure hands, And with acceptance on thee call. Those banish'd are ~hat go from thee, Strange to thy service, love, and grace:
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy OTcyMjk=