Spurns the dull earth, and on her fiery wings Counfels of peace betwixt th' Almighty Three With vast amaze I see th' unfathom'd thoughts, Of God's own Heart, in which he ever refts. Here the Beginning and the End of all O that the day, the joyful day were come, Death Death, and the tempter, and the man of fin, Now at the bar arraign'd, in judgement cast, Shall vex the faints no more: but perfect love And loudeft praifes perfect joy create, While ever-circling years maintain the blissful ftate, LOVE on a CROSS, and a THRONE. OW let my faith grow ftrong, and rife, Now And view my Lord in all his love; Look back to hear his dying cries, See where he languifh'd on the Crofs; If I behold his bleeding Heart, Or if I climb th' eternal hills Where the dear Conqueror fits enthron'd, How fhall a pardon'd rebel show I hold I hold no more commerce with hell, My deareft lufts shall all depart; A Preparatory THOUGHT for the LORD'S SUPPER, In Imitation of ISAIAH lxiii. 1, 2, 3. WHAT heavenly Man, or lovely God, Comes marching downward from the skies, Array'd in garments roll'd in blood, With joy and pity in his eyes, The Lord! the Saviour! yes, 'tis he; Whence flow these favours fo divine! 'Twas his own love that made him bleed, Then Then let us tafte the Saviour's love; I CONVERSE with CHRIST. 'M tir'd with vifits, modes, and forms, And flatteries paid to fellow-worms; Their converfation cloys; Their vain amours, and empty ftuff: But I can ne'er enjoy enough Of thy best company, my Lord, thou life of all my joys. When he begins to tell his love, Through every vein my paffions move, In midnight shades, on frofty ground, I could attend the pleafing found, [long. Nor should I feel December cold, nor think the darkness There, while I hear my Saviour-God Count o'er the fins (a heavy load) He bore upon the tree, Inward I blufh with fecret shame, And weep, and love, and bless the name [for me: That knew not guilt nor grief his own, but bare it all Next he defcribes the thorns he wore, And talks his bloody paffion o'er, Till I am drown'd in tears: Yet with the fmypathetic smart There's a ftrange joy beats round my heart; The curfed tree has bleffings in't, my sweetest balm it bears. I hear the glorious fufferer tell, How on his crofs he vanquish'd hell, And all the powers beneath : Tranfported and infpir'd, my tongue Attempts his triumphs in a song; [tory, death!" "How has the ferpent loft his fting! and where's thy vic But when he fhews his hands and heart, He fets my foul on fire: Not the beloved John could reft With more delight upon that breast, [defire. Nor Thomas pry into thofe wounds with more intenfe Kindly he opens me his ear, And bids me pour my forrow there, And tell him all my pains : Thus while I ease my burden'd heart, In every woe he bears a part, [fuftains. His arms embrace me, and his hand my drooping head Fly from my thoughts, all human things, And sporting swains, and fighting kings, My foul difdains that little fnare The tangles of Amira's hair; [remove. Thine arms, my God, are sweeter bands, nor can my heart VOL. LVI. C GRACE |