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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 CARIST.

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 !

0! '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.

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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 possessid,

My hopes, my fears, my joys :
He, the dear Sovereign of my breast,

Suall still command my voice.

Some of the fairest choirs above

Shall flock around my song,
With joy to hear the name they love

Sound from a mortal tongue,

His charms shall make my numbers flow,

And hold the falling floods, While silence sits on every bough,

And bends the listening woods.

I'll carve our passion on the bark,

And every wounded tree
Shall drop and bear some mystic mark

That Jesus died for me.

The swains shall wonder when they read,

Inscrib'd on all the grove,
That Heaven itself came down, and bled

To win a mortal's love.

THE

FAIREST AND THE ONLY BELOVED.

Honour to that diviner ray

That first allur'd my eyes away
From every mortal fair;
All the gay things that held my sight
Seem but the twinkling sparks of night,
And languishing in doubtful light

Die at the morning-star.

Whatever speaks the Godhead great,

And fit to be ador'd,
Whatever makes the creature sweet,
And worthy of my passion, meet,

Harmonious in my Lord.
A thousand graces ever rise

And bloom upon his face; A thousand arrows from his eyes Shoot through my heart with dear surprise, And guard around the place.

All nature's art shall never care

The heavenly pains I found,
And 'tis beyond all beauty's power

To make another wound:
Earthly beauties grow and fade ;
Nature heals the wounds she made,

But charms so much divine
Hold a long empire of the heart;
What Heaven has join'd shall never part,

And Jesus must be mine.

In vain the envious shades of night,

Or flatteries of the day,
Would veil his image from my sight,

Or tempt my soul away ;
Jesus is all my waking theme,
His lovely form meets every dream,

And knows not to depart:
The passion reigns
Through all my veins,
And foating round the crimson stream,

Still finds him at my heart.
Vol. XXIII

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