The Convert's Love

Blessed Light of saints on high Who fill the mansions of the sky, Sure defence, whose mercy still Preserves thy subjects here from ill, O my Jesus! make me know How to pay the thanks I owe. As the fond sheep that id'ly strays With wanton play thro' winding ways, Which never hits the road of home, O'er Wilds of danger learns to roam, 'Till weari'd out with idle fear And passing there and turning here, He will for rest to covert run And meet the wolf he wish'd to shun; Thus wretched I, thro' wanton will Run blind and headlong on in ill: 'Twas thus from sin to sin I flew And thus I might have perish'd too; But mercy dropt the likeness here And shew'd and sav'd me from my fear; While o'er the darkness of my mind The sacred spirit purely shin'd, And mark'd and bright'ned all the way Which leads to everlasting day, And broke the thick'ning clouds of sin And fix'd the light of love within. From hence my ravish'd soul aspires And dates the rise of its desires. From hence to thee my God! I turn, And fervent wishes say I burn, I burn thy glorious face to see And live in endless joy with thee. There's no such ardent kind of flame Between the lover and the dame, Nor such affection parents bear To their young and only heir, Tho' join'd together both conspire And boast a doubled force of fire. My tender heart within its seat Dissolves before the scorching heat, As soft'ning wax is taught to run Before the warmness of the sun. O my flame my pleasing pain Burn and purify my stain, Warm me, burn me, day by day 'Till you purge my earth away, 'Till at the last I throughly shine And turn a torch of love divine.