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I hold no more commerce with hell,
My dearest lusts shall all depart; But let thine image ever dwell
Stamp'd as a seal upon my heart.
A PREPARATORY THOUGHT
FOR THE LORD'S SUPPER,
In imitation of Isaiah, Ixiii, 1, 2, 3. What heavenly Man, or lovely God,
Comes marching downward from the skies, Array'd in garments rollid in blood,
With joy and pity in his eyes? The Lord! the Saviour! yes, 'tis he,
I know him by the smiles he wears : Dear glorious Man, that died for me,
Drench'd deep in agonies and tears!
Lo, he reveals his shining breast;
I own those wounds, and I adore : Lo, he prepares a royal feast,
Sweet fruit of the sharp pangs he bore !
Whence flow these favours so divine ?
Lord! why so lavish of thy blood ? Why for such earthly souls as mine,
This heavenly flesh, this sacred food?
'Twas his own love that made him bleed,
That nail'd him to the cursed tree; 'Twas his own love this table spread
For such unworthy worms as we.
Then let us taste the Saviour's love,
Come faith, and feed upon the Lord : With glad consent our lips shall move,
And sweet hosannas crown the board.
CONVERSE WITH CHRIST.
I'm tir'd with visits, modes, and forms,
Their conversation cloys;
But I can ne'er enjoy enough
The captives of his tongue :
I could attend the pleasing sound,
There, while I hear my Saviour-God
He bore upon the tree;
And weep, and love, and bless the name,
it all for me.
Next he describes the thorns he wore,
Till I am drown'd in tears: Yet with the sympathetic smart
There's a strange joy beats round my heart ! The cursed tree has blessings in't, my sweetest
balm it bears. I hear the glorious sufferer tell, How on his cross he vanquish'd hell,
And all the powers beneath: Transported and inspir'd, my tongue
Attempts his triumphs in a song; . How has the Serpent lost his sting, and where's
thy victory, Death ?'
He sets my soul on fire:
With more delight upon that breast,
intense desire. Kindly he opens me his ear, And bids me pour my sorrows there,
And tell him all my pains: Thus while I ease my burden'd heart, In every woe he bears a part, His arms embrace me, and his hand my drooping
head sustains. Fly from my thoughts, all human things, And sporting swains, and fighting kings,
And tales of wanton love : My soul disdains that little snare, The tangles of Amira's hair ; Thine arms, my God, are sweeter bands, nor can
my heart remove.
AND NATURE FAINTING,
Solomon's Song, i. 3. and ii. 5. and vi. 5.
Tell me, fairest of thy kind,
Shepherd, lead me to thy grove;
Thus overcome with love.
Say, thou dear Sovereign of my breast,
Why should I appear like one'
Shall I turn my feet astray?
Ne'er had I known his dearest name,
Ne'er had I felt his inward flame, sound : Had not his heart-strings first began the tender Nor can I bear the thought, that he
Should leave the sky,
Should bleed and die, Should love a wretch so vile as me, · Without returns of passion for his dying wound.
His eyes are glory mix'd with grace;
That with a frown he kills;
And feel his warmer smiles.
My sinking spirits feebly strive
To' endure the ecstasy;
And yet, without them, die.
That all my inward powers sustain, [again. But such as feel a Saviour's love, and love the God
Oh, why should beauty heavenly bright
Stoop to charm a mortal's sight,
Our hearts, alas! how frail their make!
With their own weight of joy they break, 0! why is love so strong, and nature's self so weak.
Turn, turn away thine eyes,
O turn thy lovely glories from me,