Charles H. Spurgeon on Psalms 119:75

I know, O Lord, etc.

Yet, Lord, in memory's fondest place

I shrine those seasons sad,

When, looking up, I saw thy face

In kind austereness clad.

I would not miss one sigh or tear,

Heart pang, or throbbing brow:

Sweet was the chastisement severe,

And sweet its memory now.

Yes! let the fragrant scars abide,

Love tokens in thy stead,

Faint shadows of the spear pierced side.

And thorn encompassed Head.

And such thy tender force be still,

When self would swerve or stray,

Shaping to truth the froward will

Along thy narrow way. John Henry Newman, 1829.

HINTS TO PREACHERS.