Travailing in Birth for Souls

I

  What contradictions meet
  In ministers’ employ!
  It is a bitter sweet,
  A sorrow full of joy:
No other post affords a place
For equal honour or disgrace!

II

  Who can describe the pain
  Which faithful preachers feel,
  Constrain’d to speak in vain
  To hearts as hard as steel?
Or who can tell the pleasures felt
When stubborn hearts begin to melt!

III

  The Saviour’s dying love,
  The soul’s amazing worth,
  Their utmost efforts move,
  And draw their bowels forth:
They pray and strive, their rest departs,
Till Christ be form’d in sinners’ hearts.

IV

  If some small hope appear,
  They still are not content;
  But, with a jealous fear,
  They watch for the event:
Too oft they find their hopes deceived,
Then how their inmost souls are grieved!

V

  But when their pains succeed,
  And from the tender blade
  The ripening ears proceed,
  Their toils are overpaid:
No harvest joy can equal theirs,
To find the fruit of all their cares.

VI

  On what has now been sown,
  Thy blessing, Lord, bestow;
  The power is thine alone,
  To make it spring and grow:
Do thou the gracious harvest raise,
And thou alone shalt have the praise.