A CAUTION AGAINST DESPAIR by JOHN BYROM

DESPAIR is a cowardly thing,
And the spirit, suggesting it, bad;
In spite of my sins I will sing,
That "Mercy is still to be had."

For He that has shewn it so far
As to give me a sensible heart,
How heinous soever they are,
Delights in the merciful part.

By affliction, so heavy to bear,
He searches the wound He would cure:
'Tis his to be kindly severe,
'Tis mine, by his grace, to endure.

O! comfort thyself in @3His@1 love,
Poor sinful and sorrowful soul!
@3Who@1 came, and still comes, from above,
To the sick that would fain be made whole:

@3Who@1 said, and continues to say,
In the deep of a penitent breast,
"Come, sinner, to me come away;
"I'll meet thee, and bring thee to rest."

A refusal to come is absurd;
I'll put myself under his care;
I'll believe his infallible word,
And never,—no, never despair.

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