"His Wounds are healing, and His Griefs give Ease; / He, like a true Physician of the Soul, / Applies the Med'cine that may make it whole."
— Byrom, John (1692-1763)
Author
Work Title
Place of Publication
Manchester
Publisher
J. Harrop
Date
1773
Metaphor
"His Wounds are healing, and His Griefs give Ease; / He, like a true Physician of the Soul, / Applies the Med'cine that may make it whole."
Metaphor in Context
A Penitential Soliloquy
What tho' no Objects strike upon the Sight,--
Thy Sacred Presence is an inward Light.
What tho' no Sounds should penetrate the Ear,--
To list'ning Thought the Voice of Truth is clear.
Sincere Devotion needs no outward shrine:
The Centre of an humble Soul is Thine.
There may I worship, and there may'st Thou place
Thy Seat of Mercy and Thy Throne of Grace;
Yea, fix, if Christ my Advocate appear,
The dread Tribunal of Thy Justice there!
Let each vain Thought, let each impure Desire
Meet in Thy Wrath with a consuming Fire!
Whilst the kind Rigours of a righteous Doom
All deadly Filth of selfish Pride consume,
Thou, Lord, can'st raise, tho' punishing for Sin,
The Joys of peaceful Penitence within.
Thy Justice and Thy Mercy both are sweet
That make our suff'rings and Salvation meet.
Befall me, then, whatever God shall please!
His Wounds are healing, and His Griefs give Ease;
He, like a true Physician of the Soul,
Applies the Med'cine that may make it whole.
I'll do, I'll suffer whatsoe'er He wills:
I see His Aim thro' all these transient Ills.
'Tis to infuse a salutary Grief,
To fit the Mind for absolute Relief,
That, purg'd from ev'ry false and finite Love,
Dead to the World, alive to Things above,
The Soul may rise, as in its first-form'd Youth,
And worship God "in Spirit and in Truth."
What tho' no Objects strike upon the Sight,--
Thy Sacred Presence is an inward Light.
What tho' no Sounds should penetrate the Ear,--
To list'ning Thought the Voice of Truth is clear.
Sincere Devotion needs no outward shrine:
The Centre of an humble Soul is Thine.
There may I worship, and there may'st Thou place
Thy Seat of Mercy and Thy Throne of Grace;
Yea, fix, if Christ my Advocate appear,
The dread Tribunal of Thy Justice there!
Let each vain Thought, let each impure Desire
Meet in Thy Wrath with a consuming Fire!
Whilst the kind Rigours of a righteous Doom
All deadly Filth of selfish Pride consume,
Thou, Lord, can'st raise, tho' punishing for Sin,
The Joys of peaceful Penitence within.
Thy Justice and Thy Mercy both are sweet
That make our suff'rings and Salvation meet.
Befall me, then, whatever God shall please!
His Wounds are healing, and His Griefs give Ease;
He, like a true Physician of the Soul,
Applies the Med'cine that may make it whole.
I'll do, I'll suffer whatsoe'er He wills:
I see His Aim thro' all these transient Ills.
'Tis to infuse a salutary Grief,
To fit the Mind for absolute Relief,
That, purg'd from ev'ry false and finite Love,
Dead to the World, alive to Things above,
The Soul may rise, as in its first-form'd Youth,
And worship God "in Spirit and in Truth."
Categories
Provenance
Reading; found again in Google Books
Citation
2 entries in ECCO and ESTC (1773).
John Byrom, Miscellaneous Poems, 2 vols. (Manchester: J. Harrop, 1773), 90-91. <Link to Google Books>
Text from The Poems of John Byrom, ed. Adolphus William Ward (Manchester: Printed for The Chetham Society, 1894-1895).
John Byrom, Miscellaneous Poems, 2 vols. (Manchester: J. Harrop, 1773), 90-91. <Link to Google Books>
Text from The Poems of John Byrom, ed. Adolphus William Ward (Manchester: Printed for The Chetham Society, 1894-1895).
Date of Entry
04/20/2007
Date of Review
03/12/2012
