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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, unconllant flesh!

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

Plung’d in the gulph of fin.
Shall I be flave 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 say?

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, Ogrant relief,

Till beanis of glory thine!


COMPLAINT of Sin, Sorrow, and want of Love. IF F black doom by defert should go,

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

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

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

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

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

Can never fure be worth tbine ire. Since Jesus the atonement was,

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

And pass the gladsome 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 rufling winds and raging blasts

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

Allowing no reposing place. The boist'rous feas 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 soul 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 llornis deny with frown

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

Thy fin-subduing grace afford ; The storm might ceafe, could I but caft

This troublous Jonah over-board. Bafe fcíh, with fleshly pleasures gain’d,

Sweet grace's kindly fuit declines; When mercy courts me for its friend,

Anon my fordid Aeth repines. Soar up, my foul, to Tabor hill,

, Cast off this loathsome presling load; Long is the date of thine exile, While absent from the Lord, tlay God.

Dote not on earthy weeds and toys,

· Which do nut, cannut tuit thy taste: The fluw’rs of everlafling joys

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

In Jelus 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 love to live and die:
Who lov'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 challe 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.

The deserted Soul's Prayer for the Lord's gracious

and fin.fubduing presence. K!

IND Jelus, 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 alham'd to cry:

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

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

My rags, that I am poor.

Thou many at thy door dost feed,

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

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

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

All other joys be gone.
How can I cease from fad 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 arms.
My heart, my hand, my spirits fail,

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

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

Will all my sins deliroy?
That Lord of love, that lamp of light,

Will banith all annsy!
O could I but from finning cease,

And wait on Pifgah's hill,
Until I lee him tace to face,

Then thould my ful be ftill.
But since corruption 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 so dear has bought:
O save from renu’ring ill tu thee

Før goud 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.

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Out of the way remove the lets,

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

Sweet Jefus, say, Ameň.

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

When brighter Phæbus 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, faith the word, That die in Christ the living Lord, And on the other side of death Thus joyful spend their praising breath: " Death from all death hath set 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 see, " 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 bliss ;

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

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