DESIRING his DESCENT to EARTH. JESUS, I love. Come, dearest name, O! if my Lord would leave the skies, How would I feast on all his charms, Then (mighty God) I'd fing and fay, would not ask to climb the sky ASCENDING to him in HEAVEN. "TIS pure delight, without alloy, My fpirit leaps with inward joy, My paffions hold a pleafing reign, This is the grace must live and fing, Let life immortal feize my clay; Swift I afcend the heavenly place, I leap to meet thy kind embrace, Sink down, ye feparating hills, Let guilt and death remove: 'Tis love that drives my chariot-wheels, And death muft yield to love. The The PRESENCE of GOD worth dying for: LORD, 'tis an infinite delight To fee thy holy face, To dwell whole ages in thy fight, And feel thy vital rays. This Gabriel knows; and fings thy name With rapture on his tongue; Mofes the faint enjoys the same, And heaven repeats the song. While the bright nation founds thy praise From each eternal hill, Sweet odours of exhaling grace The happy region fill. Thy love, a fea without a fhore, Shew me thy face, and I'll away From all inferior things; Speak, Lord, and here I quit my clay, And stretch my airy wings. Sweet was the journey to the sky, The wondrous prophet try'd; "Climb up the mount," fays God," and die;" The prophet climb'd and dy'd. Softly Softly his fainting head he lay In God's own arms he left the breath LONG for his RETURN, 'TWAS a mournful parting day! Farewell! at once he left the ground, Round the creation wild I rove, And fearch the globe in vain; There's nothing here that's worth my love Till thou return again. My paffions fly to feek their King, And fend their groans abroad, They beat the air with heavy wing, And mourn an abfent God; With inward pain my heart-strings found, My foul diffolves away : Dear Sovereign, whirl the seasons round, And bring the promis'd day. HOPE IN DARKNESS. ET, gracious God, YET, Yet will I feek thy fmiling face; What though a fhort eclipse his beauties fhrowd He is 'Tis but a morning vapour, or a fummer cloud : my I dwell for ever on his heart, Early before the light arise Dear Sovereign, hear thy fervant pray, Or fhall I breathe in vain and pant my hours away? Aloft their footy banners rear Round my poor captive foul, and dare Pronounce me prifoner of hell. |