The moon has but a borrowed light, A faint and feeble ray; She owes her beauty to the night, And hides herself by day. | No cheering warmth her beam conveys, Though pleasing to behold; We might upon her brightness gaze Till we were starved with cold. | Just such is all the light to man Which reason can impart; It cannot show one object plain, Nor warm the frozen heart. | Thus moonlight views of truths divine To many fatal prove; For what avail in gifts to shine, 1Cor 13:1 Without a spark of love? | The gospel, like the sun at noon, Affords a glorious light; Then fallen reason’s boasted moon Appears no longer bright. | And grace, not light alone, bestows, But adds a quick’ing pow’r; The desert blossoms like the rose, Isa 35:1 And sin prevails no more. | |