by John Newton, The kine unguided went
“ They felt an instinct for their young, But would not turn or stop. Shall brutes, devoid of thought, Their Maker's will obey; And we, who by his grace are taught, More stubborn prove than they? He shed his precious blood To make us his alone; If washed in that atoning flood We are no more our own. If he his will reveal, Let us obey his call; And think whate'er the flesh may feel, His love deserves our all. We should maintain in view His glory, as our end; Too much we cannot bear, or do, For such a matchless friend. ”
