She smiles, and with a courteous hand

She beckons me away;

I feel mine airy powers loose from the cumbrous

clay,

And with a joyful haste obey

Religion's high command.

What lengths and heights and depth unknown! Broad fields with blooming glory sown,

And seas, and skies, and stars her own,

In an unmeasur'd sphere!

What heavens of joy, and light serene,
Which nor the rolling sun has seen,
Where nor the roving Muse has been,
That greater traveller!

A long farewell to all below,

Farewell to all that sense can show:
To golden scenes, and flowery fields,
To all the worlds that fancy builds,
And all that poets know:

Now the swift transports of the mind
Leave the fluttering Muse behind,

A thousand loose Pindaric plumes fly scattering down the wind.

Amongst the clouds I lose my breath,
The rapture grows too strong:
The feeble powers that Nature gave
Faint, and drop downward to the grave;
Receive their fall, thou treasurer of death,
I will no more demand my tongue,
Till the gross organ, well refin'd,

Can trace the boundless flights of an unfetter'd mind,
And raise an equal song.

The following Poems of this Book are peculiarly dedicated to Divine Love'.

'THE

HAZARD OF LOVING THE CREATURES.

WHERE'ER my fluttering passions rove,

I find a lurking snare;

'Tis dangerous to let loose our love
Beneath the' Eternal Fair.

Souls whom the tie of friendship binds,
And partners of our blood,
Seize a large portion of our minds,
And leave the less for God.

Nature has soft but powerful bands,

And reason she controls;
While children with their little hands
Hang closest to our souls.

Thoughtless they act the' Old Serpent's part;

What tempting things they be!

Lord, how they twine about our heart,

And draw it off from thee!

Our hasty wills rush blindly on

Where rising passion rolls,

And thus we make our fette strong

To bind our slavish souls.

Different ages have their different airs and fashions of writing. It was much more the fashion of the age, when these poems were written, to treat of Divine subjects in the style of Solomon's Song than it is at this day, which will af ford some apology for the writer in his younger years.

Dear Sovereign, break these fetters off,
And set our spirits free;

God in himself is bliss enough,

For we have all in thee.

DESIRING TO LOVE CHRIST.

COME, let me love: or is my mind
Harden'd to stone, or froze to ice?
I see the blessed Fair One bend

And stoop to' embrace me from the skies!

O! 'tis a thought would melt a rock,
And make a heart of iron move,
That those sweet lips, that heavenly look,
Should seek and wish a mortal love!

I was a traitor doom'd to fire,

Bound to sustain eternal pains;
He flew on wings of strong desire,
Assum'd my guilt, and took my chains.

Infinite Grace! Almighty Charms!
Stand in amaze, ye whirling skies,
Jesus the God, with naked arms,
Hangs on a cross of love, and dies.

Did pity ever stoop so low,
Dress'd in divinity and blood?
Was ever rebel courted so
In groans of an expiring God?

Again he lives; and spreads his hands,
Hands that were nail'd to torturing smart;
By these dear wounds, says he; and stands
And prays to clasp me to his heart.

Sure I must love; or are my ears
Still deaf, nor will my passions move?
Then let me melt this heart to tears;
This heart shall yield to death or love.

THE

HEART GIVEN AWAY.

If there are passions in my soul,
(And passions sure there be)
Now they are all at thy control,
My Jesus, all for thee.

If love, that pleasing power, can rest
In hearts so hard as mine,
Come, gentle Saviour, to my breast,
For all my love is thine.

Let the gay world, with treacherous art,
Allure my eyes in vain :
I have convey'd away my heart,
Ne'er to return again.

I feel my warmest passions dead
To all that earth can boast;
This soul of mine was never made
For vanity and lust.

Now I can fix my thoughts above,
Amidst their flattering charms,
Till the dear Lord that hath my love
Shall call me to his arms.

So Gabriel at his King's command,
From yon celestial hill,

Flies downward to our worthless land,
His soul points upward still.

He glides along by mortal things,
Without a thought of love,
Fulfils his task, and spreads his wings
To reach the realms above.

MEDITATION IN A GROVE.

SWEET Muse, descend and bless the shade,
And bless the evening grove;

Business, and noise, and day are fled,
And every care, but love.

But hence, ye wanton young and fair,
Mine is a purer flame;

No Phillis shall infect the air

With her unhallow'd name.

Jesus has all my powers possess'd,

My hopes, my fears, my joys:
He, the dear Sovereign of my breast,
Shall still command my voice.