O God, whose favorable eye, <br />The sin-sick soul revives, <br />Holy and heavenly is the joy <br />Thy shining presence gives. <br /> <br />Not such as hypocrites suppose, <br />Who with a graceless heart <br />Taste not of Thee, but drink a dose, <br />Prepared by Satan's art. <br /> <br />Intoxicating joys are theirs, <br />Who while they boast their light, <br />And seem to soar above the stars, <br />Are plunging into night. <br /> <br />Lull'd in a soft and fatal sleep, <br />They sin and yet rejoice; <br />Were they indeed the Saviour's sheep, <br />Would they not hear His voice? <br /> <br />Be mine the comforts that reclaim <br />The soul from Satan's power; <br />That make me blush for what I am, <br />And hate my sin the more. <br /> <br />'Tis joy enough, my All in All, <br />At Thy dear feet to lie; <br />Thou wilt not let me lower fall, <br />And none can higher fly.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/true-and-false-comforts/
