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1817–1907

BIRTHDAY THOUGHTS AND ASPIRATIONS.

Thomas Cowherd

What solemn thoughts crowd o'er my mind As this eventful day moves on. I feel most forcibly inclined To strive some proper words to find,

In praise of God for what he's done. And why? For seven and thirty years: He who at first my being gave Has still upheld me, calmed my fears,

While passing through this Vale of Tears, And on my journey to the grave. ‘ Tis then but right that I should take A retrospect of my past days.

This done in faithfulness will make My humble lyre aloud to wake Its every string in God's pure praise. Then let my memory recall

Each striking scene through which I've passed. What strong emotion fills my soul, As they in quick succession roll Before my wondering gaze at last!

I feel my childhood's joys once more, Again I pass its sorrows through. Of richest mercies what a store, In health or else in sickness sore,

As if by magic spring to view. With all my sins upon my head I see two near escapes from death; Then is a feast before me spread,

And I on heavenly food am fed, The precious gift of God through faith. Lo, there I see Him guard me round, Lest strong temptations me o'ercome;

Here I am in his favor found, While others in perdition drowned Were long since hurried to the tomb! O, what a miracle is this,

That I am saved from hell and sin! Predestined by pure Grace to Bliss, My soul in transport bows submiss To God, and hopes a crown to win.

Then may I mourn my past neglect Of all thy goodness, O, my God! Henceforward may I more respect Thy just commands and still detect

Those lurking sins that bring thy rod. Should I be spared another year, May one great thought my bosom fill; To let it to mankind appear

That I am but a pilgrim here, Just left awhile to do Thy will. But Lord, thou know'st I am but weak; Impart fresh strength that I may be

More and more anxious still to seek The good of souls with spirit meek, And thus prove my sincerity. And here I would once more record

The fervent breathings of my soul, That thou would'st richest Grace afford To all my children through the Word, And still our every act control.

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BIRTHDAY THOUGHTS AND ASPIRATIONS. · Thomas Cowherd · Poetry Cove