William Cowper

Olney Hymn 47. The Hidden Life

    To tell the Saviour all my wants,
        How pleasing is the task! 
    Nor less to praise Him when He grants
        Beyond what I can ask.

    My laboring spirit vainly seeks
        To tell but half the joy, 
    With how much tenderness He speaks,
        And helps me to reply.

    Nor were it wise, nor should I choose,
        Such secrets to declare; 
    Like precious wines their taste they lose,
        Exposed to open air.

    But this with boldness I proclaim,
        Nor care if thousands hear, 
    Sweet is the ointment of His name,
        Not life is half so dear.

    And can you frown, my former friends,
        Who knew what once I was, 
    And blame the song that thus commends
        The Man who bore the cross?

    Trust me, I draw the likeness true,
        And not as fancy paints; 
    Such honor may He give to you,
        For such have all His saints.