Imágenes de página
PDF
ePub

Self in myself I hate,

That's matter of my groan; Nor can I rid me from the mate

That causes me to moan.
O frail, unconstant flesh!

Soon trapt in ey’ry gin;
Soon turn’d, o’erturn'd, and so afresh

Plung’d in the gulph of fin.
Shall I be slave to fin,

My Lord's most bloody foe?
I feel its pow'rful fway within ;

How long shall it be fo?
How long, Lord, shall I stay?

How long in Mesech here?
Dishon’ring thee from day to day,

Whose name's to me so dear?
While fin, Lord, breeds my grief,

And makes me sadly pine ;
With blinks of grace, O grant relief,

Till beanis of glory thine!

SLC T. IV.

COMPLAINT of Sin, Sorrow, and want of Love.

IF
F black doom by desert should go,

Then, Lord, my due delert is death;
Which robs from fouls immortal joy,

And from their b dies mortal breath. But in fo great a Saviour,

Can e'er fo base a worm's annoy
Add any glory to thy pow'r,

Or any gladness to thy joy?
Thou juftly mayst me doom to death.

And everlasting flames of fire ;
But on a wretch to pour thy wrath

Can never fure be worth thine ire. Since Jefus the atonement was,

Let tender mercy me release; Let him be umpire of my cause,

And pass the gladfone doom of peace,

Let grace forgive, and love forget

My bafe, my vile apostacy; And temper thy deserved hate

With love and mercy toward me. The ruffling winds and raging blafts

Hold me in constant cruel chace ; They break my anchors, fails and masts,

Allowing no reposing place. The boist'rous seas with swelling floods,

On ev'ry fide against me fight. Heav'n, overcast with stormy clouds,

Dims all the planet's guiding light. The hellish furies ly in wait

To win my foul into their pow'r ; To make me bite at ev'ry bait,

And thus my killing bane devour: I lie inchain'd in fin and thrall,

Next border unto black despair; Till grace restore, and of

my

fall The doleful ruins all repair. My hov'ring thoughts would fee to glore,

And nestle safe above the sky; Fain would my tumbling ship ashore

At that sure anchor quiet lie. But mounting thoughts are haled down

With heavy poise of corrupt load; And blust'ring itornis deny with frown

An harbour of secure abode. To drown the wight that wakes the blast,

Thy fin-fubduing grace afford; The Atorm might cease, could 1 but caft

This troublous Jonah over-board. Base Acíh, with fleshly pleasures gain'd,

Sweet grace's kindly suit declines; When mercy courts ne for its friend,

fordid Aeth repines. Soar up, my foul, to Tabor bill,

Cast off this loathfonie pressing load; Long is the date of thine exile, While abfent from the Lord, thy God.

Anon my

Dote not on earthy weeds and toys,

Which do nut, cannot luit thy talle : The flow'rs of everlalling joys

Grow up apace for thy repast. Sith that the glorious God above

In Jefus bears a love to thee;
How bale, how brutish is thy love

Of any being lets than he?
Wh, for thy love did chuse thy grief,

Content in luve to live and die:
Who loy'd thy love more than his life,

And with his life thy love did buy. Since then the God of richest love

With thy poor love enamour'd is; How high a crime will thee reprove,

If not enamour'd deep with his?
Since on the verdant field of grace

His love does thine fo hot pursue ;
Let love meet love with chialle embrace,

Thy mite a thousand-fold is due.
Rise, love, thou early heav'n, and fing,

Young little dawn of endless day:
I'll on the mounting fiery wing
In joyful raptures melt away.

SECT. V.
The deserted Soul's Prayer for the Lord's gracious

and fin-fubduing presence. IND Jefus, come in love to me,

And make no longer stay; Or else receive my soul to thee,

That breathes to be away.
A Lazar at thy gate I ly,

As well it me becomes,
For childrens bread aliam'd to cry:

O grant a dog the crumbs.
My wounds and rags my need proclaim,

Thy needful help infúre:
My wounds bear witness that I'm lame;

My rags, that I am poor.

Thou many at thy door doft feed,

With mercy when distreft ;
O wilt thou not shew an alın's deed

To me among the rest.
None else can give my fvul relief,

None else can cale my moan,
But he whole absence is my grief:

All other joys be gone.
How can I cease from sad complaint ?

How can I be at rest ?
My mind can never be content

To want my noble guest.
Drop down, mine eyes, and never tire,

Cease not on any terms, Until I have my heart's desire, My Lord within my

my arms. My heart, my hand, my spirits fail,

When hiding off be goes;
My Acth, my toes, my lusts prevail,

And work my daily woes.
When shall I see that glorious fight

Will all my fins deltroy?
That Lord of love, that lamp of light,

Will banilh all annoy!
O could I but from finning cease,

And wait on Pilgah's hill,
Until I see him tace to face,

Then thould my ful be still.
But since corruptivn cleaves to me,

While I in Kedar dwell;
O give me leave to long for thee,

For ablence is a hell.
Thy glory should be dear to me,

Who me lo dear has bought:
O save from rend'ring ill tu thee

For good which thou hast wrought. With fear I crave, with hope I cry,

Oh promis'd favour send ! Be thou thyself, though chang'ling I Ungratefully offend.

Out of the way remove the lets,

Cleanse this polluted den;
Tender my fuits, cancel my debts:

Sweet Jesus, say, Amen.

SECT. VI. The Song of Heaven desired by Saints on Earth. AURORA vails her rofy face,

When brighter Phebus takes her place ; So glad will grace resign her room To glory in the heav'nly home. Happy the company that's gone From cross to crown, from thrall to throne; How loud they fing upon the shore, To which they fail'd in heart before ! Bless'd are the dead, yea, saith the word, That dię in Christ the living Lord, And on the other side of death Thus joyful spend their praising breath: " Death from all death hath fet us free, « And will our gain for ever be ; " Death loos’d the maliy chains of woe, " To let the mournful captives go. " Death is to us a sweet repose; “ The bud was op'd to shew the rose; “ The cage was broke to let us fly, “ And build our happy nest on high. “ Lo! here we do triumphant reign, “ And joyful sing in lofty strain, " Lo! here we rest, and love to be, “ Enjoying more than faith could fee, • The thousandth part we now behold,

By mortal tongues was never told; “ We got a taste, but now above We forage in the fields of love. “ Faith once stole down a distant kiss; “ Now love cleaves to the cheek of blifs ;

Beyond the fears of more mifhap * We gladly rest in glory's lap.

« AnteriorContinuar »