The Poetry Corner

Contentment. - Philippians iv.11.

By William Cowper

Fierce passions discompose the mind, As tempests vex the sea: But calm content and peace we find, When, Lord, we turn to thee. In vain by reason and by rule We try to bend the will; For none but in the Saviours school Can learn the heavenly skill. Since at his feet my soul has sat, His gracious words to hear, Contented with my present state, I cast on him my care. Art thou a sinner, soul? he said, Then how canst thou complain? How light thy troubles here, if weighd With everlasting pain! If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured, Compare thy griefs with mine; Think what my love for thee endured, And thou wilt not repine. Tis I appoint thy daily lot, And I do all things well; Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot, And rise with me to dwell. In life my grace shall strength supply, Proportiond to thy day; At death thou still shalt find me nigh, To wipe thy tears away. Thus I, who once my wretched days In vain repinings spent, Taught in my Saviours school of grace, Have learnt to be content.